


I Walk the Line

by Awriterwrites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Grad Assistant Harry, Graduate Student Harry, Guns, M/M, Math, Minor Character Death, Mixed Media, Professor Louis, Research, There's a lot of math, Trust Issues, and social sciences too, everything is not as it seems, getting over a broken heart, hidden identities, mentions of Harry/OMC, mentions of Louis/OMC - Freeform, mentions of cheating in a previous relationship, some computer science, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:09:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10719078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites
Summary: Professor Louis Tomlinson is the leading researcher in his field.  Harry Styles is Louis’ recently hired grad assistant.  Sparks fly between them but something doesn’t add up when it comes to Harry, and Louis is determined to find out what.What happens when everything Louis thought he knew comes crashing down around him?  Is he doomed to repeat his past mistakes? Or will he learn to follow his heart and find a way to forge his own path, alongside someone he’s not sure he can trust, but who might just be the best thing to ever happen to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> See the end notes for additional tags, as I haven't included them above since they would give too much of the story away. If you are concerned or have questions, feel free to message me on [here](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/).  
> ****  
> I want to thank @twopoppies and @jackstylinson for their help with this. The two of you pushed me when I needed pushing and made me grow as a writer exponentially. I love you both dearly and really couldn't have done this without you. 
> 
> The art here is from the incredible mind and talented hands of @twopoppies. As always, I am completely blown away by what you have created here. Gorgeous--just like you, my friend. xx
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! It was a LABOR of love and I've worked tirelessly on it. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Title and song lyrics by the man in black himself, Johnny Cash.
> 
> ****  
> I keep a close watch on this heart of mine  
> I keep my eyes wide open all the time  
> I keep the ends out for the tie that binds  
> Because you're mine, I walk the line 
> 
> I find it very, very easy to be true.  
> I find myself alone when each day is through.  
> Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you.  
> Because you're mine, I walk the line.
> 
> As sure as night is dark and day is light.  
> I keep you on my mind both day and night.  
> And happiness I've known proves that it's right  
> Because you're mine, I walk the line.
> 
> You've got a way to keep me on your side.  
> You give me cause for love that I can't hide.  
> For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide.  
> Because you're mine, I walk the line.
> 
> ****

“ _Man_ , my ass looks good today.”

Louis swiveled in front of the full length mirror and admired his backside one more time.  The Italian wool trousers hugged him just the right way, welt pockets sitting smoothly over his round bum, the cuffs showing just enough ankle.  He had paired the well-fitted trousers with a new — way above his pay grade — cashmere sweater his mother had sent him as a good luck present.  His hair fell over his eyes artfully, almost as if he hadn’t spent over thirty minutes styling it, and the brown oxfords set the entire outfit off.  Well, the curved edges of his chest piece peeking out from beneath the V of his sweater set the outfit off, but, really...the whole effect was hot.

If he did say so himself.

As he walked out of his bedroom and rounded the corner, he sashayed his hips and felt a surge of giddy energy zip through his body.  Monday was going to be a good day.

****

Monday had other plans for him.

It started with Tamale not wanting to do his business.  It was raining, so Louis could give him that.  But aside from that, the Chihuahua-Terrier furball _had_ to know Louis didn’t exactly relish standing outside in the pouring rain.  Didn’t he?  Apparently not.  To make matters worse, Louis discovered the milk had gone bad.  No milk meant no tea.  It also meant no oatmeal.  No tea and no oatmeal meant that Louis was hungry and under-caffeinated.  These two things made Louis cranky.  As did his flat, wet, completely destroyed hair.  

Shivering on the El platform, Louis pulled his lined bomber jacket tighter.  Of course, the train was late, again.  It was _always_ late.  Louis had a meeting downtown with his new dean.   _And_ the provost.   _And_ the president of the fucking university.  And he was going to be late.  He looked around at the other commuters, hoping for a sympathetic shake of the head or maybe even a commiserating, “This fucking sucks.”  But he got nothing.

So that was another layer on the shit cake that was his morning.

Then, because Louis wasn’t having a shitty enough day, he ran into Edgar, the university president’s administrative assistant, while he was barreling around the corner of the executive suite and, bam!  On his ass, a full cup of…vanilla latte?  Yep.  Vanilla latte, spilled all over his cream colored — softer than his own ass —  cashmere sweater (his good luck sweater, mind you).  And, fuck if that didn’t suck even more than everything else.

****

“So, Lou.  You know we really, really appreciate you and your incredible work here.”

That sounded like there was a _big-old-but_ coming.

“But…”

There it was.

“We can’t approve your application for tenure.”

Louis’ ears went fuzzy after that.  He couldn’t really listen because this was the one thing he’d been waiting for forever — half his life it seemed.  And he watched it fizzle out like a flame doused with rainwater.  He could hear Dr. Grimshaw, the new dean, droning on about decreasing enrollment, program cuts, and then some corpu-speak about shrinking line items, budgets, and cross analysis…and Louis zoned out.  When he was dismissed some ten minutes later it was with a fake smile plastered to his face, a soggy messenger bag across his back, a stinky, stained sweater hanging limply off his frame and the promise of a thorough review of his tenure next year.

At least he still had his job.  He couldn’t say the same for his pride.

A few moments later, as he sunk into his worn leather chair, in his tiny corner office on the third floor, Louis repeated, ‘at least I still have my job’ about ten times in his head until he could finally breathe again.

_Fuck_.

Louis hated Mondays.

****

“Alright, you guys know the drill.  Open up your course in the LMS.”  Louis barely looked up as he walked into the room, smoothing down the Princeton sweatshirt he had dug out of a gym bag, long forgotten in his filing cabinet.  It didn’t exactly go with the ass-tastic trousers he had on, and it smelled a little stale, but it would have to do.

Fucking Mondays.

He dropped his bag on his desk and fired up the overhead projector.  Pulling his laptop out of his bag he finally looked up.  Five students.  He sighed and connected the laptop to the projector and cleared his throat.  Five expectant faces looked up at him.

_Here we go_ , he thought.  “Ok, this is Teaching Secondary Math graduate seminar.  At this point, you should know the drill.  We’re going to go over the syllabus tonight and your first lesson will be due Thursday…”  Louis was interrupted by the sound of the classroom door banging against the wall and a tall, slender man practically falling through it.

“Oh!  Sorry, I’m…sorry.”  The person at the door spoke in a slow, deep voice, apology thick and heavy in his molasses timbre.  Louis clenched his teeth to keep his mouth from dropping open.

The intruder was gorgeous.

Truly one of the prettiest human beings Louis had ever laid eyes on.

His hair tumbled around his face in a waterfall of angelic curls, held back by a cobalt blue scarf.  His cheeks were pink from either embarrassment or the cool air outside and he was wearing…Christ.  What was he wearing?  It looked like he was wearing one of Louis’ great uncle Fran’s old Hawaiian shirts from the 1980s.  He had paired the neon pink and lemon yellow shirt and shearling jacket with grey skinny jeans that were ripped open at both knees.  The jeans  appeared to have been painted on him—Louis found himself squinting to see if they were one of those illusions, where someone literally painted clothing on another person, making it seem like there were clothes there when it was actually just skin.  Because…they were really, _really_ tight.  Louis adjusted his dick through his pants pocket subconsciously, the sympathetic need for air tingling in his crotch.

“The Art wing is around the corner,” Louis said in a clipped tone.  Good.  He was able to mask his arousal with a professional teacher tone.  Score for Professor Tomlinson.

The stranger walked further into the room, pulling at his bottom lip with two long, elegant fingers.  “Oh—um…I’m not…I’m here for the Math Seminar?”

Louis swallowed thickly.  Well, fuck.

“R— _really_?  I mean.  Ok, then.  Come in and find a seat,” Louis hoped his face didn’t betray the mixture of lust and nervous energy he felt flying through his body like a tornado.  “And you’re late.”  He tacked on that last bit just to prove he was in control.  Barely.  But still.

“Ok, then.  Where were we?”  Louis shot an impatient glance at the newcomer, who was folding himself into one of the normally spacious desks—clearly the boy had the world's longest legs ever. And that was both a blessing and a curse.  “Right.  I’m going to take attendance and then we will proceed with the syllabus.”  Good.  Control.   _Definitely_ in control.  Louis mentally patted himself on the back.  His sweatshirt-covered back, not very scholarly in appearance, but, still, he was in control.

“Mary Jarvis?”

“Here.”

“Stu Collins?”

“Here.”

“Luisa Alvarez?”

“Here.”

“Kennedy Stewart?”

“Here.”

“Jackson Polinsky?  Jackson—“

“Here.”

Louis looked from his computer screen to the class.  He had called five names.  But there were six bodies sitting in the desks across from him.  Five bodies and one fucking celestial being, but…semantics, really.

“And you are?”  Louis looked directly at the boy staring at him with wide, green eyes from the front row.  Of course he sat in the front row.  He looked entirely too eager for a tedious math seminar.

“Harry—um…Harry Styles?”  The student answered, his voice washing over Louis like molten fudge, warm and rich, nearly too sticky slow to be considered normal.

“Harry…”  Louis looked over his list again, as if the name would magically appear.  “Nope.  Not here.   Are you sure you registered?”

“I did.  Last week.  Um…there was like a financial hold or something?   But it should have cleared by now since my scholarship came through?  Maybe that’s why I’m not on your roster?”  Harry fidgeted in his seat, his stare unnerving and calm, despite how twitchy he was.  

“Okay, Harry.  See me after class,” Louis ordered, surprising himself at how cool his voice sounded.  He also noticed how much he liked the sound of the boy’s name rolling off his tongue, but that was no big deal because Louis was one hundred percent in control.  Completely and totally in control.  Right.

Class proceeded as normal, Louis going over the assignments and expectations, the students asking the same questions as usual.  It was all rather tedious, making Louis’ head ache, the morning finally catching up with him.  Over and over he kept finding his eyes sliding to the student sat in front of him.  

Harry Styles was an unusual creature.  He sat on the edge of his chair, bouncing his knees or flicking his pencil around while he stared at Louis.  Whenever Louis looked back at him, a nervous little smile would dance across the younger man’s face.  It felt like Harry knew a secret about Louis, was keeping it safe and private, as if it was something the two of them shared.

The thing was, this kid, this _student,_ was insanely attractive.  Louis wasn’t blind.  Louis was also far from straight. But Harry was a _student_.  And Louis wasn’t about to make his Monday get any worse by fucking up his fragile position at the University.

Harry stared at Louis with wide eyes throughout the whole class.  It was unnerving.  Louis was used to students maintaining just enough polite eye contact to look interested.  The rest of the time they discreetly looked at their phones or scratched notes on the edges of their notebooks or even appeared to be busy typing on laptops (Louis was sure they were scrolling facebook or twitter), but they never just looked at him like _that_ : intent, focused.

And this kid, Harry, was ethereal, just sitting there on a mundane Monday, in ridiculous jeans with ridiculous hair and the _most_ ridiculous mouth and Louis couldn’t stop looking back at him.  It was insane.

He ended class early.

He had basically no other choice.  What else could he possibly do with that big eyed, big mouthed, big haired wonder just _staring_ at him like he was a fine wine or a big piece of chocolate cake?  Like he was starving and wanted to _eat Louis alive_.

Louis looked down as the class emptied, refilling his bag with its previous contents.  He heard feet shuffling and didn’t need to look up to know that his beautiful new obsession was standing right in front of him.  He could see the toes of his battered boots under the table and could smell the sharp, citrus, woodsy scent of his cologne.

“Professor, um…Tomlinson?”

His voice.  God, his voice was bright, but deep, dipping and undulating in soft waves of cadence and tone.  Louis wanted to drown in it.

“Yes.  Yeah, uh...Harry, is it?”  Louis worked extraordinarily hard to keep his voice even.  It was almost harder than defending his dissertation.

“Um.  So, like.  I’ll check with the registrar’s office about my status?  But I was wondering if you needed any, like, help this term?  I could really use the credit for my service learning and I…I tutor kids Wednesday afternoons but if you needed help with grading papers or…anything.”  The boy rambled on and on until Louis finally put a hand up, silencing him.  They’d be here until next Wednesday if he let this slow speaking, voice-like-honey, sex god keep talking.

“Harry—it’s so nice of you to offer but I’m not sure how much work I could give you?  I don’t really have enough for a full time grad assistant and I’m sure you want more than what I could offer...and, besides, I don’t think my department can really afford you?”  Louis smoothed his sweatshirt down over his hips, cringing internally at how frumpy it probably made him look.

“I would take whatever you wanted to give me,” Harry replied, voice dipping even lower, quieter, the hidden meaning jumping up and strangling Louis.  By the dick.

Louis looked up at him sharply and saw innocent, wide green eyes looking back at him.  Did he _just_ …?  Louis stared at him for a beat and when Harry licked his full pink lips he had to force himself to look away.  Louis slung his bag over his shoulder and felt his fight or flight instincts warring inside him.   _Get the hell away_ , that rational voice inside his head barked at him.   _Stay and see if he’s as warm and soft as he looks—just one little touch_ —the reckless, completely stupid voice in his brain cajoled.

“I mean,” Harry continued, “It could like, be for my internship hours?  I’m in the higher ed track, so…and I really, really admire your work...”

As his deep, rambling voice dropped off, Louis could see how it would actually look really good for him to take on a grad assistant.  It could not only help with his continued efforts to get tenure, but it would also allow him to focus more on his research.  A grad assistant could actually really be a great thing.

Louis looked up at the student standing in front of him, his bright eyes searching out Louis’ own, bottom lip tucked between his teeth.  Shit.  This was either going to be the best decision of his life or a monumental mistake.  Louis drew in a deep breath, already knowing what he was about to say.

“Call the Math Department program assistant,” Louis squeaked as he flew out of the classroom, leaving his student behind, his breath unsteady and harsh, “She’ll get you set up for next week.”

As he hurled himself down the hall, heading toward his office, he could barely think straight.  Visions of pink lips and long legs danced before his eyes, tormenting him.  Honestly, what the fuck was he going to do with Harry Styles as his new grad assistant?

 ****

“So what did they say?  Start from the beginning.”

Louis was sitting at Clancy’s, still wearing the damn Princeton sweatshirt, nursing a cider.  Liam sat next to him, elbow propped on the worn bar surface, looking at his best friend with concern.  Louis inhaled deeply, smelling onion rings and old beer, before pushing his glasses up and leveling the man next to him with a tired stare.

“I can’t really explain it any more clearly,” Louis sighed.  “They just said it wasn’t in the budget and my program’s…you know.  Shrinking .”

Liam shook his head, disbelief practically pouring off of him.  “I can’t even—“

Louis patted Liam on the shoulder, consoling him as if he were the one who had been denied tenure for the third year in a row.  “’S alright.”

They both sat in silence, drinking and listening to the melancholy sound of the Doors eking through the cavern-like space.  Clancy’s was on their corner, an easy place to go for an after work beer or a quick weekend burger.  For the past three years, since Louis met Liam — an English professor at the same university — at his first faculty meeting, they’d been coming here after work and all the times in-between; roommates and colleagues at the most basic; platonic soulmates at the most complex.

“It was a shit day, Li,” Louis concluded, taking a long gulp of his nearly empty drink, draining the glass.  “But…something _interesting_ did happen.”

Liam quirked an eyebrow.  “Interesting?  Tell me more.”

“I mean.  I shouldn’t even be thinking about this, let alone talking about it.  But…”  Louis ran a hand through his rain dampened hair, the weather not letting up all day.  “I think I…met someone?”

“Holy shit!  You’ve been sitting here this whole time holding out on me!  How could you not tell me you met someone?  What the fuck, Lou?”  Liam banged an overdramatic fist on the bar, yelling, “Barkeep!  Two more of your finest…cocktails.  Er...a beer and a cider.”

Louis giggled and shook his head fondly.  “It’s not—it can’t be like that.”

Liam slid Louis his drink, poured by the disgruntled bartender, who didn’t have much patience for a dramatic Liam Payne on a slow, rainy Monday night.  “Spill,” Liam demanded.

“Nah, Li.  He’s, um…a student?”

Liam looked at Louis.  Louis looked at Liam.  The silence stretched out before them like a taut wire, vibrating with the need to snap.  “Ah shit, bro.  You’re fucked.”

Louis nodded solemnly, letting out a forlorn sounding sigh.  He wasn’t the only one with a penchant for the dramatic.  “Yeah.  Exactly.”

The silence continued to unfurl around them, pushing them deep into the memories of what had happened years before.  Louis had worked most of his career to get past it.  To get over it — over _him_.  But here he was, fate practically dumping this deja vu of a karmic bitch right into his lap.  And, what was he supposed to do about it?  

It was Liam who broke the silence, “I mean.  It doesn’t have to be…”

Louis gave him a weak smile.  “No, yeah.  I mean.  This is totally different.  It’s just…” he scratched the back of his neck and felt the familiar sense of pain and anger crawl all over his skin.  “It’s just that, I’m ready to date again and...you know?  I didn’t — wasn’t — expecting something like this.”

Liam nodded in understanding.  It wasn’t the same.  It was completely different.  This time he wasn’t the student, for one thing.  He was the professor.  Which was almost worse.  But also, this time, he was in control.  He could control what happened.  He could...he could stop it from ever happening.  He could just say no.  

Or…

He could date Harry.  He’d have to leave his position.  Or wait until Harry graduated.  Which was at the end of this term. But, still.  Shit timing, shit everything.

Liam finally spoke, his voice eager and a little too loud,  “Wanna tell me about him anyway?”

Louis grinned, “Yeah.  Yeah, I do.”  He nodded his head, sharing a secret smile with Liam, so thankful that his best friend understood him, knew that, even if he wasn’t going to pursue this, he still needed to talk about it.  

Over a bowl of shelled peanuts, Louis gushed.  “He’s got these legs, Li?  I’ve never seen legs like this before, on a guy, you know?  And he’s like…a hippie kid?  All peace, love, and honeyed voice but like, a flirt, right?  Smiley.  Cheeky, you know?”

Liam smiled and tossed two peanuts in his mouth, one of them bouncing off his front teeth and tumbling to the floor.  “Where did he come from?”

“Heaven.”  Louis said dreamily.

“You fucking sap,” Liam teased.

Louis sighed.  “I know.”

Liam fidgeted in his seat a little, scooping out the remnants from the bowl.  “No, like, seriously.  Have you seen him around?”

Louis shook his head.  “Nah.  But it’s not uncommon for me to get a higher ed track student this late in the program...all the pre-reqs and all.”  

Liam nodded his head, chewing thoughtfully.  Louis looked up at him and felt his entire face break into a wide grin.  He couldn’t stop thinking about him.  About Harry.  It felt like this long forgotten part of him — a very, very small part — was waking up.  It felt amazing.  Like the morning after a really good, sound, sleep.  Or like coming down after a really good high.  Soft.  Hazy.  Excited for what’s next.

“Dude.”

“Yeah,” Louis sighed, “I know.”

“You got this?”

Louis bit his lip and looked up at Liam, his friend’s warm brown eyes kind and considerate.  “Um…well…”

“What did you do?”  The thing about good friends who’ve lived with each other for as long as Liam and Louis had was that they could practically read each other’s thoughts.  So, when Liam asked Louis what he did, what he meant was, ‘you fucked up, bro, I know you did’.

“I kinda hired him as my grad assistant for the term?”  Louis mumbled into his sleeve, already dropping his head to the bar.  The gray sky opened up again outside, a loud crash of thunder shaking the building and the lights dimming overhead.

“You did _what_?”  Liam’s voice was incredulous.

“I know.  Stupid.  I know.”

Louis must have sounded pathetic enough for Liam to let it go.  He just patted him on the back again and shook his head.  They both turned to look up at the sight of Wrigley Field on the television, the actual landmark looming outside the window, shrouded in dark clouds and puddles coalescing on the black tarp that stretched across the friendly confines.  It looked about as bleak as Louis felt.

****

Carmen was a tiny Cuban woman who made a mean ropa vieja that she always brought Louis generous helpings of — usually on Monday mornings after her family had their big Sunday dinners.  She could balance a budget faster than anyone Louis had ever met, and, she was one of the only people — besides Louis’ mom and Liam –– who could see right through him.  

She was also the only person standing between Louis and the hiring of his new graduate assistant, Harry Styles.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Carmen,” Louis huffed, pushing his hair out of his eyes — reminding himself to call for a haircut later — “We can.  We can afford it.  We’re not even paying the full amount.  He’s using a portion of it for his service learning and intern credits so he can graduate.”

“ _Louis_.  How?  Are you on the verge of discovering some new mathematical formula that no one else in the entire world knows about?  Because…”  She threw her little hands up in the air, her quick temper straining below the surface of her pretty caramel colored cheeks, “Because, I don’t think you understand —”

Louis cut her off.  “Just take it out of my travel and PD.”

It was quiet for a moment and Carmen leveled him with a penetrating stare.  “Hm.”

Louis stared back at her, unblinking.  He knew that if he looked away first she would pounce.  ‘Don’t show weakness’.  ‘Don’t show weakness’, he repeated to himself.  She squinted at him and he felt the first inkling at the bottom of his spine telling him to turn away.  

“Fine.”

Louis exhaled.  Fucking hell.  Carmen was... _Intense_.  

“But, just so you know, I expect him to pull his weight.”  She sat in her chair, still giving Louis the stink eye.

Louis nodded his head solemnly, feeling sweat start to roll down the center of his back.  He was dying to crawl back to his office.

“Oh.  And…” Carmen smirked, turning toward her computer, “I’m sure his pretty face doesn’t have anything to do with why you are willing to sacrifice your expense budget.”

Louis’ mouth opened and closed.  He felt the flush of shame color his cheeks like a flooding river breaking through a damn.  “I…”

“Shoo.  Some of us have work to do!”  Carmen waved her hand at him, her face stern but her voice light and teasing.  Louis looked at her a second more and then thought it best to flee before she started asking questions.

Questions which Louis didn’t have the answers to.  Or, at the very least, didn’t want to think about.

****

“Right. So...should I just, like...come to your office, or?”

God, that voice.  Harry’s voice was deep.   _Really_ deep.  And slow.  Louis could swear he felt pinpricks of heat tickling his skin — almost as if he had stepped into a hot shower with ice cold skin. He briefly shut his eyes while Harry continued to speak, enjoying the sensation of being completely enveloped in warmth, sinking deeper and deeper into the heat, the softness of it.  His voice was honestly one of the hottest things Louis had ever heard, and the boy had barely spoken more than a few words to him so far.  

“Professor Tomlinson?”  

Louis’ eyes flew open.  He was mortified that he had let himself drift off like that.  He stared at Harry for a beat, the other man’s eyes clear and alert as he looked down at Louis.  A small smile played on the edges of his wide mouth.  Louis felt himself sliding down a very, very slippery slope.

“Yes. It’s…” Louis turned and started walking toward the door, grabbing his bag from the desk.  I’m in control.  I’m in _control_.  Silently repeating the words over and over to remind himself. —

Just then, he tripped over a wrinkle in the carpet.  He barely had time to catch himself as he wobbled wildly and started careening toward the floor.  Harry reached out and caught him — his hand on Louis’ elbow firm and warm — steadying him and keeping him from falling flat on his face.  

Louis looked up into Harry’s face, alarmed by the intensity in his green eyes.  Harry was looking down at him with such concern it was almost jarring.  Louis felt himself blush madly, right up to the tips of his ears.  Of all the dumb ass things to do…

With a start, Louis realized Harry’s other hand was wrapped around his waist, thumb digging into his hipbone.  His entire hand under his sweater, fingers caught up under the waist of his jeans — heat searing right through Louis’ skin, burning him like a brand.  His hand was _big_ , large enough to span Louis’ entire side, covering his hip with agonizing intensity.  Louis shivered from the heavy feel of it on his skin –– hot and cold all at once.  

Louis slowly righted himself, eyes never leaving Harry’s, as he pulled away gently from his grasp.  The hand on his hip fell away, but the one on his elbow remained steadfast.  The loss at his side was immediate.  Clearing his throat he looked away quickly, trying to regain some sense of control.  Control.  For Christ’s sake, he needed to get it under control.  

This — this whole _whatever_ he was feeling for Harry — was not even a thing he could pursue.  Couldn’t even think about it.  No way.  He was his _student_.  And Louis really didn’t want to go down that professor-student path again.

“My office — it’s on the third floor.”  Louis whispered.  He watched Harry let go of his elbow, slow, like the flow of his speech, to release him — he seemed to be slow to do everything — and he waited for Louis to lead the way.  

According to Carmen, Harry had been cleared to begin working as Louis’ grad assistant the second week of class.  He had miraculously appeared on Louis’ roster and then proceeded to show up to class late, again.  After working through the content for class, Louis ended on time, averting Harry’s piercing gaze for the majority of the three hours.  It felt like every time he looked at the lanky man in the front row he was just _staring_ at him, completely unabashed and sort of googly eyed.  It was...odd.  Louis certainly wasn’t used to it.  Having Harry’s undivided attention felt like this strange combination of exhilarating and...just plain _creepy_.

“Three, you said?”  Harry’s voice rumbled in the small, empty elevator.

Louis shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other.  “Yep.”

He watched Harry reach out and press the faded number three on the smudged, gilded panel.  The movement gave Louis a chance to notice the delicate bones of Harry’s long arms rotate as his ulna shifted under the loose edge of his button up shirt.  He had his shearling coat slung over his shoulder and his backpack resting between his legs at his feet.  There was a grace to him that Louis found intriguing, for despite a long-limbed, awkward sort of clumsiness, he still managed to possess a subtlety to him.  He was a puzzle.  Soft edges and curls, contrasting with sharp angles and a clunky kind of boyishness made him a study of opposites.

It reminded Louis of a complex mathematical problem, teasing him from the periphery, begging to be solved.  

“So.  Um...Thanks for this.  I can really use the help with tuition and the credits for internship.”  

Louis glanced at Harry and watched his lips move slowly, _painfully_ slow, like wading through tall grass in the middle of a hot, humid day.  Slow, slow, slow.  Louis wanted to melt into Harry and his deep, slow voice.  The other thing about Harry’s mouth was that his lips were shiny and pink and the way his big, rabbit-like teeth poked out and scraped along the fuller bottom lip was obscene.  It was mesmerizing.  

Harry was mesmerizing.

And still very much Louis’ student.

Louis felt Harry’s eyes burning into his back as he led him through the maze of cubicles and offices that comprised the third floor faculty space.  The floor was mostly empty at this time of night, most professors and staff already gone for the day or were teaching on other floors of the building.  Louis led Harry to his office, slotting the key into the lock quiety.  He opened the door, smelling the comfortable scent of his work space — the musty smell of old books and tea and cinnamon, and also a bit like old socks.  It was his home away from home.

[](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/a-writerwrites#)[](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/a-writerwrites#)“Well.  Here it is,” Louis said flatly, throwing an arm out to the side.

Harry looked around the tiny office and walked to the bookshelves lining the far wall.  He ran a long finger along the spines and looked over his shoulder, “This is a lot of math books.”

Louis laughed lightly, “Well, I am a math teacher.  So.”

“Hm.”  Harry turned and looked at Louis.  “This is great, really.  Thank you.”

Their eyes locked across the small room, and Louis felt time stand still for a moment.  The light from the city shone in through the partially opened blinds on the french doors and Harry’s long hair caught the light like spun rose gold.  Louis felt his breath catch in his throat.  He was beautiful.  Louis’ new grad assistant was positively gorgeous.  

Louis was fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

“Right.  Well, you have to actually…”

“Um...so, like.  Here.  Let me show you.”

Louis watched Harry’s long arms move the papers they had been scribbling on to the side, his skin brushing up against Louis’ in a feather soft touch that had Louis’ nerve endings screaming.  Louis’ entire body was on alert at the close proximity of the other man.  At this distance Louis could smell the pine and winter sky scent of him and could feel the warmth emanating off of him.  

Pulling Louis’ laptop closer, Harry glanced at Louis, his eyelashes sweeping over his cheekbones in a slow motion movement that made Louis almost forget to breathe for a moment.  The deep green was obscured momentarily by the inky black of his lashes and the effect was blinding.  The one thing Louis had learned very quickly about his grad assistant is that he was slow and methodical in his approach to just about everything, but he was lightning quick when it came to mathematics.  It was evidenced by the work he produced in class and the systems he was setting up for Louis in his day-to-day work.  

At the moment Louis wasn’t thinking about the veracity of Harry’s mind.  No, he was thinking about how his skin felt.  Or, rather, how he  _ thought  _ it would feel under the weight of his hand — his body.  Louis was dying to reach out and drag a finger over the dark lines tattooed all over Harry’s arms.  There were mermaid scales and the curling curves of a ship’s anchor.  He could see a cross at the fleshy juncture of his thumb and index finger and the leaves of a flower poking out from beneath the rolled up sleeves of his jaquard print button up.  All of it was striking.  

And it was very distracting.

“So, I went ahead and set up a spreadsheet.”  Harry was powering up the laptop and tapping the fingers of his right hand on his thigh, perilously close to Louis’ jittery leg.  

Louis stared at the screen.  “Hm,” he hummed, words increasingly more difficult to find.  

Within moments the familiar green and white cells were dancing in front of his eyes and Harry was outlining how he set up the new analytic grading rubrics.  “I mean.  A student could do very well here,” he pointed at a cell, “and not as well here, and still fare pretty well?  But this takes the subjectivity out of it and…” he switched to another page, “you can see here that I’ve created a report that tells you how the data from the rubrics can be compared to one another as well as to those within the rest of the university…” he flipped again, “to previous years,” another flip, “and the state and national trends as well.”

Louis felt his mouth drop open.  And his dick twitch.

“You...you did all this?”  His voice was throaty, raw.  Because, well, Harry by himself was insanely attractive but add in talking data and rubrics and learning outcomes from a mathematical perspective?  It was a lot.  

“Yeah.  I mean.  I hope you aren’t upset?”  Harry bit the side of his thumb nervously.  “It’s just you said it was kind of a slap dash system you had going and...I kinda dig spreadsheets.”  His face flushed and Louis kind of wanted to kiss him.

“No!  Yeah.  No.  This is — this is great.  I can’t believe…”  Louis angled the computer so he could see what Harry had done and he felt genuinely surprised.  It was amazing.  More than.  It would make for some interesting data at the end of the term.  It was — well, it could be — life changing. 

Louis turned to look at Harry, realizing how close their heads were bent together.  He cleared his throat and inched back a little.  “Thank you.  I mean it.  This is just... _ wow _ .”

Harry blinked slowly and a half smile appeared on his face, a dimple showing.  Louis could cry he was so pretty.

And still his student.  And, technically, his employee.  So.  

Harry sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.  Louis watched his tendons and muscles flex.  He swallowed and looked back at the screen.  He could hear the slow steady sound of Harry’s breaths joining with the rapid nervous sound of his own.  Together, they sounded like an intricate piece of music, notes intertwined, moving together then apart in perfect synchrony.

“Tea!”  Louis slid back from the table violently, the items across its surface shaking and skittering over the cluttered surface.

Harry coughed into his hand and moved away at the same time, clearly disrupted by Louis’ outburst.  “I’ll um...I’ll go get some.”

Louis looked over at Harry and could see something indecipherable in his expression.  And, really, Louis just needed space.  Physical space away from Harry and his long legs and clean scent and long fingers that stroked the keys of the computer with maddening precision…

“Great.  Yeah.  Um.  Black for me.”

“Louis.  I know how you take your tea.  If I didn’t by now I’d expect you to bag me.”

Louis’ eyebrows shot up at that and he felt his tummy flip.  “Um…”

“Not like that.  Oh god!”  Harry covered his face with his massive hands.  “Jesus.  I meant fire?  You know?  Ah!  I’m…” he gestured toward the door, “leaving now.  Be right back.”

Louis giggled and rolled his chair over to his desk.  As he watched Harry walk down the hall, his lithe hips swaying back and forth, he realized his pulse was racing. And what the fuck was he supposed to do with that?  

****

“Mr. Styles has your tests at the back table.  I’ll see you all Monday.”  Louis dismissed his freshman algebra class, calling out as they scurried from the room, “have a nice weekend!”

Harry was stationed at the table near the exit, handing out papers to the less than enthused students.  This term was make or break it for a lot of the first years.  More than half of them failed the test, which was pretty indicative that those students probably wouldn’t finish the year.  Louis shook his head sadly and started packing up his things.  

The room cleared and he was left alone, with his thoughts.  And Harry.  

“Friday afternoon, hm?” 

Four weeks of working together and Louis still couldn’t get used to Harry’s voice.  He looked away from his piercing gaze quickly.  “Yup.  Looks like it.”  

They’d found a nice, easy rhythm over the past few weeks.  Harry came to Louis’ office two days a week to help with filing, organizing and grading undergrad assignments.  He also helped to teach two of the freshman math classes, which was a surprising help to Louis.  Louis had time to focus on research and on working with his grad students.  All in all it had been a mutually beneficial arrangement for both of them.

Earlier that day, the two of them had been spread out at Harry’s table, deli sandwiches and sodas scattered around them along with several spreadsheets with their notes scrawled across them.  

“Where did you learn that?”  Louis had questioned, curious about the way Harry had so quickly figured out how to transfer a complex math formula to a computer programming algorithm.

Harry just looked up and gave Louis a mega-watt smile.  “Can’t give away all my secrets, Lou.  What fun would that be?”

Louis narrowed his eyes and watched as Harry’s flingers flew over the keyboard, programming the formula into the system so that the application could spit out predictions   “Hm.  No, really.  How did you know to do that?”  Louis was serious.  What Harry was doing was incredibly complex, and Louis knew very few mathematicians that could understand let alone implement the nuances of what Harry was doing.

Harry paused and tucked his chin into his shoulder.  “I told you Louis...I’m smart.  Homeschooled and all.”  His cheeks were tinged a pale carnation pink and he looked so adorable.  Almost like he was embarrassed for Louis calling him out on  _ knowing  _ something. 

“Is that right?”  Louis reached out and tousled Harry’s long, unruly hair.  “If you’re so smart how come your fly is open?”

Harry squawked and looked down at his jeans, hurriedly zipping them up.  Louis had giggled and bumped Harry’s shoulder playfully.  “Go on.  Get back to work.”  

Harry picked up his soda, sucking the straw into his mouth with sinful lips, looking at Louis through his thick dark lashes.   “Alright boss.”

And that shouldn’t have affected Louis at all.  But it did.

As the afternoon had worn on, Louis kept replaying their conversation.  He couldn’t help but feel like Harry had switched the topic so swiftly — so swiftly Louis was near dizzy from it.  It felt a little too convenient, that Harry explained his crazy math and computer programming knowledge with the simple fact that he’d been homeschooled.  But, who was Louis to judge?  He was a product of the public school system and he’d done alright for himself.  

Even though Harry only shared bits and pieces about his life before grad school, Louis felt he had really gotten to know him.  Harry was quirky in the best of ways.  He had a lovely sense of humor and was genuinely kind.  He did things like open doors for people and said “bless you” when someone sneezed.  He was keenly organized, a nice match to Louis’ more haphazard way of moving through the world, and he was wicked smart.  On more than one occasion, he had come up with an efficient way for Louis to manage a task or complete some mundane requirement.  Which had been an unexpected coup.

They got along so well, too.  Conversation was easy.  Sitting in silence and working was easy.  Taking a break for tea or lunch was easy.  It was all just... _ easy _ .  Louis found himself falling into a comfortable pattern with Harry — almost as if he’d always been there.  Or belonged there, beside Louis; teaching, working, existing.

He was also passionate about math.  Everything about it.  His eyes glowed when he talked about numbers and data and trends and analytics.  He was like a dream come true.  All that hotness and a mathematical brain too?  Louis could combust just thinking about it.

“Coming?”  

Louis met the other man at the door and watched as he opened it for him and stood aside.  Brushing past him, Louis could feel the heat from Harry’s body seek out every inch of his exposed skin.  It made him shiver, despite the agonizing heat of it.  

“I’m gonna...um.  Grab a bite to eat?  If you want to...like…” 

Louis stopped in front of the hallway, unable to avoid Harry’s eyes anymore.  Because it was Friday and Louis was feeling peckish, he decided to tease the other man.  “Harry, are you asking me out?”

Harry fumbled with the loose papers in his hand, nearly dropping his bag and his travel mug in the process.  For how big his hands were, they could barely juggle the few items he was carrying.  His cheeks were flushed a pretty shade of pink and Louis couldn’t help but feel warm and happy inside.  He was kind of  _ turned on _ by flustered Harry.  He wanted to see if he could make him blush even more than he already was.  And that, that was a dangerous path to be heading down.

“Um?  Well...yeah...I — “  Harry stammered and fumbled while they stepped into the elevator, making Louis hide a giggle behind his hand.

He decided to put Harry out of his misery, “I’m teasing Harry.  Yes.  It’s Friday afternoon.  We’ve had a long week and I’d love to grab some dinner with you.”  At that, his stomach flip-flopped nervously.  Dinner.  With Harry.

Harry smiled sheepishly and tucked his chin into the collar of his button up.  “Great.  That’s uh…”

“Great,” Louis supplied.  They stared at each other for a moment; wild, frenetic energy flying between them.  Whatever was happening was charged and practically electric, Louis could taste the metal of it in the air.  Just a meal, Louis reminded himself.  Just a meal.   

Thirty minutes later they were sitting in a corner booth at Clancy’s, a near empty plate of potato skins between them and a half full pitcher of beer.  “So, that’s how I came to UWC,” Harry said, scooping the last potato skin up and taking a large bite of it.

Louis was transfixed by the way his mouth moved around words, and even more around food.  The way he ate and drank was almost pornographic and as far as Louis was concerned, those two things didn’t belong together.  But, with Harry, they did.  Everything he did was sensual.   _ Fuck _ .  This kid could even make breathing look sexy.  

Pushing his beer away — because he might have  _ just _ hit his limit — Louis replied, “Well, aren’t you a proper Doogie Howser.”

“Doogie?  I…”  Harry looked genuinely confused.  “I don’t know who that is but, I assure you Louis, I got here on hard work and pure mathematical genius.”  He smirked, emphasizing the word ‘genius’.

“You’re a child, Harold!”  Louis reached out to slap Harry’s arm playfully, but his hand landed on the tacky table instead.  Oops.  Louis’ vision swam a little.  He needed more food.  Food would be good.  No more alcohol.  Harry reached out and danced his fingertips across the top of Louis’ hand.  Louis started to turn his hand so they could fold their hands together, fingers slotting beside each other.  “Wanna hold hands?”  Louis teased, because Harry looked like he could use some teasing.  

Harry yanked his hand back, almost too fast for Louis to track.  Which.  He was drunk, so that wasn’t very surprising.  “S — sorry,” Harry stammered, blushing.  Louis loved when he blushed.  He was so pretty like that.  All soft and rosy.

“Besides.  Who doesn’t know who Doogie Howser is?”  Louis was proud of himself for remembering the chain of conversation.  Internal fist bump.  Or external.  Whatever.

The bar was still fairly empty for a Friday, but it was early yet, most people just getting off work for the day.  Harry made Louis nervous and when Louis got nervous he babbled.  Or drank.  Or drunk babbled.  He was doing the latter today.  Probably too much.

“I — who?”

Louis grinned, pulling his mug toward him again.  A little more beer would probably be ok.  “From the TV show?  In the 80s?”  Harry looked just as confused as ever.  “Didn’t you ever watch reruns, Harry?”

“I...we didn’t own a television as a kid,” Harry said quietly.  “ _ And _ — I’m not  _ that  _ young,” Harry said louder, the edge of a whine in his voice.  He was cute when he whined.  He was cute all the time.  “I’m twenty-two.”  

“You’re twenty-two finishing a double Master’s Degree, Harry.  You’re a baby, darling boy.  A  _ baby _ .”  Louis caught himself.  He may have been gushing a bit.  And touching.   _ Inappropriate touching, _ his brain screamed as he watched his hand barely cover Harry’s larger one.  And because he’s a dick, and apparently a glutton for punishment, he kept it there.  And ran his thumb over the top of Harry’s knuckles.  

_ Warm _ .

“What about you?”  Harry gently slid his hand away, tucking it into his lap.  Louis watched, feeling his cheeks color in shame.   _ Ah fuck _ .  He was probably over flirting.  Liam always said he got too handsy when he drank.  Reign it in Tomlinson.  

Louis cleared his throat, trying to forget about how Harry’s hand felt under his fingertips.  “Oh, me?  Yeah.  Just your usual.  Went to school, worked hard, had no life...sacrificed everything to get ahead. And here I am, a mid-level professor at a mid-level University, wasting away, never to get tenure, never to get anywhere.  Woe is me.  No action.  No excitement.”  Louis was really starting to depress himself.  And he was babbling again.  Morose babbling was probably not very attractive.

“ _ Hey _ , hey?”  Louis looked up and saw Harry’s eyes, a vast pool of kindness and warmth.  “You are the least ‘no excitement’ person I’ve ever met.  You’re…”  He swallowed thickly, eyes boring into Louis’ own.  Louis felt pinned in place, unable to move.  “You’re everything.  I mean it Louis.  I...your work is — brilliant.  Like, your research?  And just the way your mind works?”

Louis felt the air leave his lungs and he couldn’t look away.  Fuck.  Harry — he meant it.  Meant that Louis was  _ something _ .  Something to him.  And that... _ oh _ .  It was confusing, is what it was.  Harry was sending some major mixed signals and it made Louis’ head spin.  To be fair, he probably was too, but still.  

“I’m.”  Louis was looking for words, something to say, a joke maybe.  A witty comeback.  Maybe even a  _ thank you _ .  But nothing came.  “I’m…”

“What else can I get you gentlemen tonight?”  The server saved Louis from himself.  Saved him from saying something stupid in a moment of raw alcohol induced vulnerability.  

Harry tore his eyes away and flashed that gorgeous smile of his.  “Hi.  Um...I’ll have the turkey burger.  And the sweet potato fries.”

The server scribbled down his order and slid her eyes over to Louis.  Louis was still feeling flummoxed, heat coloring his cheeks, butterflies churning in his stomach, so he said the first thing that came to his mind.  “I’ll have the same, please.”  

_ A turkey burger? _

“Coming right up.  Another pitcher?”

Harry said yes at the same time Louis squeaked an emphatic no.  

They laughed and looked at each other, smiling.  “I’ll have another, please.  Just a mug,” Harry said, deep tone permeating every one of Louis’ senses.  

“None for me, thanks,” Louis murmured, still watching Harry and the way his eyes closed shut from smiling and the way his dimples showed and the way his lips glossed pink and smooth in the low light.  

Harry winked at the waitress and glanced at Louis.  Their eyes got caught up in each other and Louis watched Harry’s grow fond and then darken at the edges.  There was something  _ there _ .  Something Louis couldn’t put his finger on.  For both of them.  And, God help him, he wanted to find out.

****

“When my parents moved back here, back to the States, I just kinda went with it, you know?”

“So they always worked for the government?”

“Yeah.  I mean.  It was just who we were?  We moved around a lot.  Europe, Asia, Australia.  That’s part of how I got into college so young.  I was homeschooled and kinda just...zipped through things?”  Louis watched Harry make a zipping motion with his hands, the streetlight overhead shadowing his face so that all he could see was the soft glow of his teeth.  

“What did you say they did?”

A bus roared by just then, distracting them, making both of them stop where they were walking, and when Louis looked back at Harry, he was looking down at him with a small smile on his lips.  “Did anyone ever tell you you’re cute?”

Louis spluttered, “Wh — what?”

“Oh  _ God _ .”  Harry hid his face behind his hands and groaned.  “Ah fuck.  I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry!”  

Louis reached out and pulled Harry’s hands down from his face, the skin at his wrists warm and thin, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath Louis’ fingers sure and strong.  Louis wondered what it would feel like to press his lips there, maybe drag his teeth along the papery skin.  “It’s...it’s ok.”

“Yeah?”  Harry whispered, the dark holding the word like a secret between them.  

“I think so too.”  

“You think you’re cute too?”

Louis burst out laughing, hanging his head in embarrassment.  “No!  I...”

Louis felt fingers under his chin and a gentle tip upward.  He looked up into Harry’s eyes and felt like this could possibly be the most magical moment of his life.  “It’s mutual then, yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Louis breathed out, entranced.  Harry looked like he wanted to say something else — leaning forward with intensity in his green eyes — and Louis watched him carefully, eyes flitting from his lips to his eyes and back again and then he realized, all at once, with startling agony, that Harry was going to  _ kiss _ him.  And... _ no _ .  Oh shit.   _ No _ .

“I’m uh…”   _ Harry can’t kiss me _ , Louis thought, alarmed and suddenly very, very sober.  They’d been flirting and playing with this attraction for days now, and Louis just didn’t know what to make of it all.  He was still sorting out his feelings about getting into another... _ something _ — relationship, fling — with someone and  _ Christ _ .  The fact that it was Harry, who was his student, still brought up painful memories.  It was just too much.   _ So much _ .  But it was Harry.  And, fuck all if Louis knew what he was doing.

Louis tilted his body and started walking, forcing himself to turn away from Harry.  He felt a dull ache in the center of his chest.  “Up here.”  He gestured toward the gray stone apartment  building at the corner.  Harry caught up in one long stride.

Thankfully, Harry seemed just as eager to pretend the almost kiss hadn’t happened, “What about you then?  Parents?  Siblings?  I mean...I saw the pictures in your office”,  his voice smooth and even, giving Louis a chance to re-focus.

“Oh yeah.  Mom, dad, four sisters.  Big family.  I’m the only one who works in academia.”  He couldn’t hide the pride that crept into his voice.    

“Bet they are proud of their little Doctor Louis.”  Harry’s voice was teasing but it was warm and sweet and it made Louis stand straighter, a surge of pride and embarrassment pushing his mouth into a tiny grin.  

Louis gave Harry a fake pout.  “Who you callin’ little?”  

Harry bumped his shoulder as they walked in synch.  Louis began to purposefully slowing down, not wanting the night to end despite his confusion over his growing attraction toward Harry.  “They aren’t really though. Proud, that is.”

Harry looked at him, waiting for Louis to elaborate.  “I mean.  My family...they’re not really into, um...that kind of thing.  It’s more about sports and, I don’t know.  I’m kind of — I don’t really fit in.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered.  And Louis believed him.  It wasn’t something he talked about a lot, or thought about.  He tried to be proud of himself, ignore the crawl of self-doubt that gnawed at his insides and sometimes held him captive, keeping him frozen in place.  He tried to forget how his parents were usually more interested in if he’d found someone to settle down with, start a family, rather than his career — his many accomplishments.

“Lou, can I ask you something?”  Harry stopped at the foot of Louis’ walk, the wrought iron gate ajar, beckoning him home.  

Louis shook off the somber thoughts of his family away.  “Of course.”

“Do you...I mean.  Are you…”  Harry shifted to his other foot, leaning one hand on the gate behind Louis’ head, trapping him in his gaze, once again.  “Are you seeing anyone?  Not that it’s any of my business.  God.  I keep fucking this up.  Just...forget I asked.  I — ”

Louis felt a flare of heat blossom in his chest and radiate toward his fingers and toes.  “No. No, really.  It’s ok.  ‘M not.  I mean...I was.  But it’s been over for a while.”

Harry nodded his head slowly, waiting for Louis to continue.  Louis took a deep breath.  “It just.  It ended...it didn’t end well.”

“Wanna tell me about it?”  Harry’s voice was scratchy and deep, the heat from his body shielding Louis from the cold bite in the air.

Louis looked down at his feet.  “Not much to tell really.  He um...he was my professor.  My dissertation chair.  When I was in my doctoral program.  When the administration found out he was...um...he was put on probation.  And...I had to transfer to finish my program.” Louis glanced up at Harry, shame coloring his cheeks, before looking back down at a rock he rolled under his foot.  He couldn’t look at Harry right then, embarrassment and unease still a fresh wound under his skin — despite the fact that it had been years.  “That was before I found out he was married.”

“ _ Oh _ .”

The silence hanging between them felt like poison, dripping into every crack and crevice, threatening to pull Louis down into the darkness with it.  

“It was consensual.  You know.  If you’re thinking…”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”  

“I wouldn’t have done it if I had known he was married.”

Harry nodded absently, his gaze guarded as he looked at something distant, over Louis’ shoulder.  He murmured a quiet, “Of course.”

Louis looked up at Harry, disappointed at how the other man was looking at him now, so unlike the way he looked at him just moments before.  Harry’s eyes had furrowed into a deep crease between his brow as he re-focused on Louis again.  He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.  Louis couldn’t be sure, but if he were Harry right now he would get the hell away, as far as he could go.  Because Louis, Louis was damaged goods — and hellbent on repeating bad, bad patterns, apparently.  If this wasn’t a sign that they shouldn’t even think about pursuing anything more than a professional relationship, Louis didn’t know what was.  

It looked like Harry was fighting the urge to run.  Louis wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“I think…”  Harry’s deep voice dragged the word out, emphasizing the ‘k’, as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “I think that maybe we need to have this conversation when we haven’t been, um...drinking.  Yeah?”

Louis nodded his head slowly, blinking back tears.  He wasn’t  _ crying  _ over this.  He wouldn’t.  It’s been fucking  _ years _ , he thought.   _ I’m not crying over it _ .  Louis was still holding his breath when Harry leaned down and brushed his lips over Louis’ cheekbone, more like a ‘good-bye’ than a ‘see you later’.  

“Ok,” Louis whispered.  

“Night, Lou.”

“Night, Harry.”

Louis watched Harry turn and head toward the corner, where he’d catch a bus to his apartment in Logan Square.  Exhaling, Louis dragged himself up the stairs to his place.  If he was confused before he didn’t know how he felt now.

He was pretty sure he’d regret a lot of things in the morning.  Story of his life.

****

Louis stared at the meeting invite for probably the third time in less than ten minutes.  

Dean Grimshaw wanted to meet with him.  Today.  

The weekend was a depressive blur of laying around in his sweat pants, drinking beer and crying to Liam about how fucked up his life was.  When he really thought about it, it was probably for the best that he and Harry called things off before they even started.  Liam kept assuring him that he didn’t really know what Harry was thinking and he probably should wait til they had a chance to talk before he went and started making decisions about the cats he was going to get and the spinster house he was planning on living in until he died an old, lonely man.   _ Alone _ .  In a bowl of soup.

Louis was much more content to wallow in self pity.

“But Liam,” he said, “what the fuck is wrong with me?  I mean…” Louis tossed an empty box of cookies in the general direction of the trash can.  “I’ve only just met him.  I shouldn’t have feelings like this yet!  And, what’s worse is it feels like I’ll never get over him, you know?” 

Liam, for the hundredth time just patted Louis on the head and commiserated, “I know, man.  I know.”  Liam did know, like he knew Louis liked jalapeños on his pizza and bananas on his cheerios, that ‘him’ wasn’t Harry.  It was Louis’ ex. 

All Louis could do in response was flop back on the couch.  

Self-pity.  Louis’ constant companion.  

The first few days of the week went by in a blur.  A slow, Harry-less blur.  Harry usually called or texted on Monday morning to set up his schedule for the week.  When he didn’t do it on Monday, or Tuesday, Louis figured that maybe he’d forgotten, or had gotten caught up with preparing for midterms.  When he didn’t hear from him Wednesday or Thursday, Louis knew he’d probably fucked things up.  He felt a churning sense of guilt and rejection deep inside and he really, really had hoped he’d have heard from Harry by now.   Louis vacillated between feeling panicked and on edge about Harry reporting his misconduct, and wallowing in a deep rooted fear that Harry had disappeared because he just didn’t like Louis like that — and, even worse, that Louis had come on too strong and frightened Harry away.

Louis’ stomach turned and he took several deep breaths.  He couldn’t help the irritation he felt over the whole situation.  It was made worse by the fact that Harry had basically dropped off the face of the earth for a week.  Where the fuck had he been?   _ God _ .  He gave himself a mental slap in the face because he was getting hysterical here.  He berated himself, telling himself to shut up for being utterly ridiculous.  Where Harry Styles  _ was  _ or  _ wasn’t  _ really wasn’t any of his concern.  Not like Harry owed Louis anything.  Or like Louis had some claim to him.    

The more pressing matter was that his dean wanted to meet with him.  He never met with his old dean.  He just did his job — and did it well — and went home, every day.  It was enough.  What the hell did Grimshaw want with him?  In the back of Louis’ mind he was really hoping the two things — Louis’ summons to the dean and Harry’s disappearance — weren’t related.

Sighing, Louis responded to the meeting invite, letting Dean Grimshaw’s administrative assistant know that he could make it.  He closed out the application and opened up his password protected research folder.  Research.  Reliable.  Comfortable.  Always consistent.   _ Research _ .  

His file was opening slowly and Louis looked out the window.  It was a dreary gray outside, winter closing its icy clutches around Chicago in full force.  He shivered involuntarily, pulling his cardigan off the back of his chair.  He looked back at his screen and saw an error message.  Strange.  

He input the password again and waited.  Another error message.  

He was going to have to take his laptop to IT again.  Third time this year goddamnit.  He made a note to himself to get a requisition for a new computer.  Pulling his messenger bag out of his desk drawer, Louis reached inside one of the pockets and fished out his flash drive.  He kept his research on his work laptop, home PC, and his flash drive.  All password protected — with different passcodes for each.  It was complicated and sort of a pain in the ass, but...it was protocol.  And some of the information was sensitive, so.

The flash drive worked.  Within seconds he was backing up the reports, white pages, and spreadsheets to his laptop and refreshing his mind with where he left off. Mindlessly, Louis started formatting a series of charts that he planned on comparing after he got the latest round of numbers from his research liaison at the Associated Press.  He passed several hours just fiddling with pie charts and graphs until his stomach growled, reminding him he needed to eat lunch.

Stretching, Louis took off his glasses and ran a hand through his messy hair, yawning deeply.  His joints were stiff from sitting so long.  On his way to the staff kitchen he passed Carmen sitting with a few other colleagues, and said hello.  He grabbed his lunch from the fridge and brought it, and a fresh cup of tea, back to his office.  His mind was racing with a hypothesis that was forming in his mind from his latest round of figures when he entered his office.

He stopped dead when he walked over the threshold.  

Harry was there.

Harry was there, sitting at his own workspace— which was really just a table in the corner fashioned into a makeshift desk— leaning backward, arms folded behind his neck and legs stretched out between his table and Louis’ desk.  

Harry was there.

“Hi — “ Louis stared at Harry, watching his long legs slowly fold up underneath him.  

“Hi.”

Harry’s face was a riddle.  His mouth was set in a small frown but his eyes were dancing with light.  It hadn’t been quite a week since they’d last seen each other but Louis found himself wanting to fling himself into Harry’s arms.  And that was just  _ weird _ .  They hadn’t hugged once since they’d met and yet...Louis chastised himself —  _ don’t be so fucking weird _ .  And, of course, there was the other matter.  The student-teacher matter.  

Really, what the fuck was wrong with him?

Louis was realizing, in that flash of a moment between seeing Harry and realizing that he was actually there, in his office, that he had  _ missed  _ Harry.  Missed the slow sound of his words pouring from his mouth like thick caramel from a spoon.  Missed the soft way he moved about the office, tidying up, helping to keep Louis organized.  Missed the way he occasionally pointed out something about a formula or a spreadsheet that had evaded Louis.  He just...just missed him.

And it had only been six days.  Admitting that he missed his grad assistant might be the thing that gets him fired.  Or worse, the thing that makes him get over the idea that he’d never get over his ex.

“You’re here.”

Harry walked up to Louis and looked at him, angling his face down just a fraction so they could see eye to eye.  “I am.”  He reached around Louis and shut the door.

Louis felt his throat click, he was suddenly so thirsty.  At this close distance, Louis could smell Harry’s aftershave and could see that he was freshly shaven.  His hair was damp and his clothes were rumpled, almost like he threw something on quickly — in a rush.  

“You’re — you didn’t call. Or text.”  Louis’ voice felt small coming out of his dry mouth.  He looked up at Harry and realized that Harry was backing him up to the door, leaving him with no escape.  Louis was powerless to stop him, letting Harry invade his space, take over his senses.

Harry put one hand up on the door behind Louis’ head at the same time Louis realized he couldn’t move backward any more.  He was flush to the door and boxed in by Harry’s body.  Suddenly, Louis realized that Harry was quite a bit taller than him.  It was imposing.   _ Hot _ .

“I didn’t call because I had to go out of town unexpectedly.”  Harry’s voice was deep and it sounded slower than usual — deliberate, controlled.  

Louis shifted but stayed against the door, the heat from Harry’s body starting to seep into his skin, warming him from the inside out.  “Where did you go?” Louis whispered, his voice catching at the back of his throat.

“Family stuff.  I — I just didn’t want you to think…”  He was staring at Louis’ mouth and then his eyes and back to his mouth again.  It made Louis’ knees tremble.

“Think what?”

“That I was avoiding you.”  

It was quiet then, the only sound the printer outside Louis’ office, down the hall.  The sunlight was streaming through the window, catching dust motes like overexposed fireflies.  Harry exhaled and Louis could feel the warm, peppermint scented air hit his mouth, his chin.  He kept his mouth closed.  Because it would be weird to open it — and swallow the air like he wanted.  Why was he like this?  

“I didn’t —” 

Harry smirked at him, coming even closer — so close their thighs brushed together, the swish of denim sounding like a whisper between them.  “Don’t lie.  You did.”

Louis sighed and tilted his head, rolling his eyes.  “Yeah, ok.  I did.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.  Louis.”  

Louis swallowed and stared at the bob of Harry’s adam’s apple.  He could see his pulse jump in his neck and he fought the urge to reach up and attach his mouth to it — right there at the side of his long, elegant neck.  Louis wanted to hear him say his name over and over again.  Forever, if he could.

No, no, no.   _ No _ .

“H — Harry.”  Louis wrapped one hand around the fragile bone and skin of Harry’s wrist, the one by his forehead at the door.  He gently pressed another hand to Harry’s chest, feeling the strong ripple of muscle under Harry’s thin sweater.  

Harry bit his lip and inhaled.  He didn’t move. 

Louis licked his lips and watched Harry’s teeth leave indents in the soft puffy pink of his bottom lip.  God.  He wanted to pull that lip between his own teeth, leave marks of his own.  His head was swimming with all the contradictions he felt...the give and take of his ethical moral compass warring with the desire that filled his heart and mind with something frantic, pulsing — delirious. 

“We can’t do this.  I  _ want  _ to do this...”  Harry said, the words hoarse, regretful.  “But,  _ fuck _ .  We can’t.”  Harry’s eyes were a little wild, untamed, and the way he was looking at Louis felt like he wanted to dig inside of him, scoop out every last drop of everything that mattered and then reassemble him like something shiny and new —  _ better _ .  More whole.  More himself.

Louis nodded his head.  He looked away, to the side where he could see stacks of textbooks and political research notebooks and reports.  He sighed.  “I know.”

Impossibly, he felt Harry’s big hot hands cup his cheeks, his palms slightly callused and so, so warm.  Louis looked up at him and blinked, trapped by the intensity of Harry’s eyes.  “Not because I don’t want to, Lou.  Fuck, I want to,” he said, desperate and nearly manic, “Just because...the timing.  It’s…”

“I get it.”  Suddenly, Louis wanted to be anywhere but there in that moment.  If he could sprout wings and fly he would.  “I get it.  It’s not good timing.  For either of us.  Fuck, Harry.  My job is on the line here.  I could get  _ fired _ ...So yeah.  You’re right.  Not good timing.”  Then, as if to convince himself as much as Harry, he tacked on, “at all.”

Harry backed away, just a footstep, but to Louis it felt like miles.  Cold air clawed at his body and he felt a sob catch at the back of his throat.  He covered it up with what he hoped sounded like a cough.  

“You don’t know...how much — I want...” Harry whispered, dragging his hand through his hair, clawing at it, making it flop messily over to the side, “how much I wish things were different.”

Louis stared at him, feeling the heat crawl over his face — the flush of embarrassment, shame and, as much as he wished it weren’t true,  _ arousal  _ — coloring him scarlet.  As his alarm buzzed, a reminder for his meeting with Dean Grimshaw, he said, quietly, definitively “Me too.”

****

“I’ve been looking through your vitae.”

Louis shifted nervously in his seat, the leather wingback dwarfing him, making him feel like Alice in Wonderland.  He glanced around the large office — three times as large as his, he couldn’t help but notice — and saw several awards lining the oak bookshelves as well as some family photos.  The dean looked exactly the same in each one, smiling, staring directly at the lens; rigid, icy stare penetrating the camera lens.  It was  _ unnerving _ .

“Hm?  Oh?  What did you think?”

Dean Grimshaw laughed lightly and rapped his knuckles on the desk in front of him.  He got up and walked around to the front of the desk, sitting in the chair that was next to Louis.  Louis had to angle his body to see him, which was uncomfortable.  The notion that maybe the dean  _ wanted _ him uncomfortable flitted through his brain.  

“I think,” Grimshaw said, flicking some lint off of his expensive looking charcoal trousers, “that you are a diamond in the rough, Louis.”

Louis rolled his neck, trying to find a comfortable position.  “Thanks?  I think.”

“It’s meant to be a compliment.”  Dr. Grimshaw pulled a folder off the desk and opened it.  Louis could see his curriculum vitae opened to his publications page.

“Right — well, I’m —” Louis wasn’t exactly sure what the other man was getting at.

“Your research…” the dean began, dragging his fingertip over the text on the page, “is quite impressive.”

Louis cleared his throat and tried to turn in the chair.  No such luck.  He wondered idly if he could get up and move the chair so he could face his boss.  “My research?”  

“Yes, your research.  The breadth of data you’ve uncovered is outstanding.”

Louis nodded.  It was true.  He was the leading researcher in his field.  “Thank you.”  He was starting to feel irritated at the angle he was in, trying to look at the other man without contorting his body painfully.  And still, he was wondering what he was doing here.

“Do you have everything you need here, Louis?”

“Um...I don’t follow?”

“You have a grad assistant, right?”

“Right.  Harry…”  Louis was wondering where this was going.  His stomach was in knots and he was holding his breath, just sure that the dean was about to give him his walking papers.

“How’s that going?”  Grimshaw leaned forward, watching Louis intently.

Louis swallowed thickly.  “Fine.  Great.  I mean.  It’s good, sir.”

“Good, good.”  The dean crossed his arms across his chest and watched Louis for a moment more, making Louis want to squirm in his seat.  “I have a proposition for you.”

Ah, here we go.  “Yes sir?”

The dean got up and circled his desk again.  Oh, thank God.  Louis was feeling the crick in his neck acutely; it was a great relief to face forward again.  

“I’d like you to present at the Council of Independent Election Analytics Summit next weekend.”  He slid a glossy brochure across the desk.  “And I’d like to see a full summary of your latest findings.”

Immediately Louis felt a mixture of relief that he wasn’t getting fired but then rankled because...what?  It wasn’t conventional for a colleague, or even a dean, for that matter, to ask to see someone else’s research findings, unless they were sharing research or partnering, especially before publication.  And...it sounded like he was being  _ ordered  _ to present at a conference, which...also not really conventional.

“Um, with all due respect, sir,” Louis scrambled to reply, trying to hide the contempt in his voice, “I’m sure it’s too late to get a proposal in for the conference next weekend.”  One thing at a time.

“Oh, nonsense.  I’ve already arranged for it.  It’s imperative that we get the University’s name out there.  We need to show that we are leading the field in innovation when it comes to research and I’d say…” he waggled a meaty finger at Louis, “I’d say you are the poster boy for innovation and research.”

Louis felt his cheeks color at that — he couldn’t be sure if it was out of pride or anger.  “Next weekend is rather soon, sir.”

“Exactly, which is why I need to see your most recent findings.  I’m going to help you prepare for it.”

Louis sputtered, “You — what?”

“Well, it wouldn’t exactly be fair of me to put you on the spot like this and not offer to help, would it?”  Dean Grimshaw’s tone sounded quite far from helpful.

“Um…”  Louis was honestly at a loss as to how to reply.  This was... _ unprecedented _ .  “I don’t really follow.  I mean.  Why now?”

“Let’s just say your research has...a certain timeliness.”  Grimshaw’s face was ruddy and a little bit shiny with oil and sweat.  His dark hair was styled in such that it reminded Louis of an over-inflated rooster and Louis could smell something that reminded him of cured meats.  He felt his stomach roil just thinking about why his dean’s office smelled like salami.

But still, Louis couldn't argue with the fact that his research was timely.  His research was  _ very _ timely.  After the last presidential election, Louis found himself in the middle of a mathematical genius’s paradise.  Being the foremost expert in the field of  psephology, the election was a veritable playground for researchers like him.  He’d been analyzing elections and voter behaviors since his dissertation, the fields of poly sci and mathematics converging to create one perfect storm of an academic career for him.  But still.

Louis studied Dr. Grimshaw’s face and he found no clues.  None.  Why him, of all people?  The long-suffering professor, denied tenure and working in his own little corner of the university without much need for accolades or attention.  The dean’s lined face was completely void of anything remotely telling.  Again, Louis couldn’t help but think it was... _ unnerving _ .  There was something entirely too  _ odd _ about Nick Grimshaw.  Louis couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there was something.  It may have been the eau de pastrami.

“Well, what do you say?”  Grimshaw stared at Louis, head tilted, waiting for a reply.  

“Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice do I?”

The dean chuckled, as he slid Louis’ travel arrangements, conference agenda and credentials across the desk at him.  “Nonsense.  You always have a choice.”

As Louis walked back to his office, puzzling over what just happened, he wasn’t sure he wanted to consider exactly  _ what  _ his choice was. 

****

Louis was contemplating his life choices.  

There were some really good ones, he had to admit.  

Deciding to get a ph.d.?  Good choice.  Trying out for the junior high soccer team?  Good choice.  Kissing Jeremy Keller on that high school camping trip?   _ Excellent  _ choice.  Moving in with Liam?  Amazing.

Fucking his professor aka his philandering ex-boyfriend?  Terrible, terrible choice.  

Hiring Harry Styles?  Yet to be determined.

He took a long drink of his quickly warming beer and watched Liam amble into the living room holding two bottles in one hand and a pizza in the other.  

“Li?  Have I told you lately that I love you?”

Liam smirked and slid the pizza on the coffee table along with the beers.  “Um...you don’t bring me flowers anymore?”

“Wrong song, my friend.  Wrong song.”

“Can I help it that I actually listen to music from this century?”

Louis grinned and helped himself to a slice of cheese pizza.  Liam flattened a napkin over his chest.  “Good man,” Louis said around a mouthful.

“Yup.”  Liam started in on his pizza, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence.

How I Met Your Mother was playing in the background and Louis was swimming in the day’s events.  “Li?”

“Yeah?”

“Today sucked.”

Liam handed Louis a fresh beer and turned toward him.  “Tell me about it?”

Sighing, Louis told Liam about his day — about how Harry showed up after missing for nearly a week.  About how Harry effectively ended whatever was happening between them before it even started.  He told him about how, even though he knew it was for the best, it still hurt — hurt to be rejected, hurt to think that maybe he was doomed to never find love again after the debacle that was his situation with his ex-boyfriend.  Then about the dean and how strange he’d been during their brief meeting.

“Strange how?”  Liam wiped at his mouth with a napkin, smearing sauce across his chin.  Honestly.  Adorable.

“I dunno.  Just kinda...weird?  I can’t put my finger on it.  It’s like he’s...remember those like, action figures from when we were little with the glossy plastic clothing painted on their bodies?  And the hard plastic hair?”

Liam furrowed his brows.  “Um.  Like GI Joe?”

“Not really...more like...He-Man?”

“He-Man?”

Louis knew Liam was about three seconds from teasing him relentlessly.  “Forget it...anyway.  There’s something off about him.  He actually asked to see my most recent research findings?  Like.  Odd, right?”

“He  _ what _ ?”  Liam sounded alarmed.

“Yeah.  So he can help me prepare for this conference he wants me to present at next weekend.  Next weekend, Liam.  As in seven days away.”  

Liam blinked rapidly and put his pizza down on top of the box.  “Are you gonna do it?”

“I can’t see how I can say no, right?  I mean.  He’s my dean.”  Louis bit on his lip, slumping back into the couch.  He wanted to crawl in bed and forget today ever happened.  

“Strange…”  Liam rubbed a hand over his whiskers and appeared deep in thought.  

Louis watched him for a moment before finally asking, “Ok there, Li?  You didn’t get steam rolled today by  _ your  _ dean — did you?  Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  He chuckled and reached for his beer again.  

Liam glanced at Louis and gave him a smile.  He looked back at his pizza and resumed eating it, shoving a third of it into his mouth.  “So.  I have something to talk to you about too.”

“Oh?”  Louis turned his body again so he could face Liam, giving him his full attention.

“Right.” Liam looked nervous.  Liam was never nervous.  “You know how Sophia and I have been...um...getting close?”

Yes, Louis did know.  It was like he lived alone these days with how frequently Liam was at Sophia’s.  The exception was Friday nights.  They tried to hang out on Fridays as much as they could, but even that sacred arrangement had been hit or miss lately.  “Yeah, I know,” Louis said, gesturing for Liam to continue.

“I’m uh...I’m gonna ask her to marry me.”

The words hung in the air between them, thick and almost foreboding.  

Louis swallowed his emotions and launched himself at Liam, spilling beer all over his friend’s broad shoulder.  “I’m so happy for you!” he shrieked, burying his face in Liam’s neck.  He took a deep breath and smelled the familiar scent of his best friend — pine and that expensive lavender washing powder he used and a bit like tomato sauce.  That last part was from the pizza.  Still.  He smelled good.  Comfortable.    

Liam hugged Louis back and exhaled, “Yeah?  You are?”

“Of course, Li,” Louis said, sitting back in his seat, blinking back tears, “I’ll...you know miss you.”  He gestured around their apartment, their shared living space of the last three years.  “But, yeah.  I want you to be happy.  And I know Soph makes you happy, so…”

Liam was beaming, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling bright and effervescent. “I’m gonna ask her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Louis squeaked.  Wow.  That was...soon.

“Yeah...I mean.  I don’t want to wait?” 

Louis nodded his head, his chest aching with something he couldn’t quite recognize.  He was happy for Liam.  He was.  But he was also sad — so, so sad.  Because he’d be alone.  Completely and totally alone.  

And if he really thought about it, the idea terrified him. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Honestly, Harry, you don’t have to go with me.  I can…”  

“Manage.  I know, Lou.  That’s what you said, but I wanna go.  You know?  The dean said you could bring me, right?   Besides, will be good for the ‘ol resume.”  Harry flashed a bright toothy grin and Louis was helpless.  He couldn’t very well say no to that. 

Well, he could.  But he wouldn’t.  

By the time Monday came around it was like nothing had happened between them.  Again.  Except something  _ had  _ happened.  But.  It was like the proverbial elephant in the room.  They were just ignoring it.  And, for Louis, he was hoping it would go away.  ‘It’ being the insane attraction he felt towards Harry.  

So, instead of addressing it or doing the smart thing, which would have been finding Harry another position with another professor, Louis kept him on assignment and endured the insanity that was being near him day in and day out.  Ok.  Not really day out.  More like a few days a week.  But still.  He loved the pain.  Apparently.

“Besides.  How did you think you were going to get there?”  Harry hoisted Louis’ overnight bag into the trunk and tossed his leather jacket in after it.  Louis tried not to stare at the way his pale biceps glowed in the mid-morning light, the ink scattered up and down them like some kind of perverse road map.

“Well…” Louis scratched his head and tightened his cardigan around himself, “You do have a point there.”  Louis didn’t drive.  He lived in a city with phenomenal public transportation so he never saw the need.  

They got into the car, a tiny little thing, and Louis watched Harry try to fold up his legs to fit under the wheel.  He really was a picture — all long legs and arms, lean and narrow in the best possible way, with broad muscled shoulders.  Louis shook his head, forcing himself to look away.  Pure thoughts.  Pure thoughts.  

“I’m gonna stop for a coffee, you want one?”

“Yes!  Please.”  Louis hadn’t had time for any breakfast or tea and he really needed the caffeine.  He was a bundle of nerves and had hardly slept at all the night before.  Between all of the pressure he felt Dean Grimshaw was putting on him for this presentation and the daunting prospect of being with Harry for such an extended period of time, Louis was slowly losing his mind. 

In the end, Grimshaw had actually been pretty helpful in terms of preparing the presentation.  He was able to make some good suggestions and Louis found that putting the relevant data together had been actually quite easy.  He was still a little flummoxed as to why the dean had such a keen interest in his work but he wasn’t questioning it — anything that got him closer to tenure had to be a good thing.

They stopped at a coffee shop and both got out.  Harry ordered a coffee and Louis got a coffee and a muffin.  Louis paid for both of their coffees, it was the least he could do — dragging Harry across the state with him — and they were back in the car in a few short minutes.  The car smelled like Harry’s hair product (sweet vanilla and something lemony) and roasted coffee beans.  It was lovely.

As they eased on to Lake Shore Drive, Harry cleared his throat and dropped his hand to the top of his thigh.  Louis gulped watching the movement.  Harry’s hands were so big, and strong looking.  Louis wanted them all over his body more than anything…

Pure thoughts.  Pure thoughts.

“So, what did Grimshaw say again when he looked over your initial findings?”  Harry asked, voice casual and soft as he switched lanes.  

Louis looked out over city, the sun shining off each gleaming surface like a phoenix coming out of the ashes. It was bright and cold out, one of those winter days where the sun looks harsh, almost white, in the way it fervently tried to warm the earth’s surface, to no avail.  “Yeah...he just said he was impressed.  And then, like...said I was good to go.”

Harry nodded his head and moved into the lane that exited to the expressway.  “Weird, right?  Is Math his field?”

“No.  I think he said he studied science?”  It  _ was _ weird, Louis thought, that the dean had been so adamant about seeing his research and looking over every slide of his presentation.  Almost like he needed to put his stamp of approval on it.  Which felt strange.  Louis hadn’t had anyone look over his work in years, he’d been able to work in blissful autonomy for most of his time in academia.  

It was odd to have someone so keen on keeping tabs on him.  At least that’s what it felt like. 

Tired of thinking about his strange dean and what it all meant for his career, Louis changed the subject, “So you know my roommate, Liam?”

“Hm-hm.”  Harry nodded and wiggled his long fingers over the stretched fabric of his jeans.  Louis was trying not to get distracted.

“He’s getting married.”

“Oh, yeah?  That’s exciting!”  Harry glanced at Louis and gave him a bright smile.  Louis tried to return it.  He really did.

“Yeah.  Um...it is.”  It was exciting.  For Liam.  Not so much for Louis, who apparently was destined to be alone.  “I’m sort of going to plan an engagement party for him.”

“Seriously?  You know I’m like an expert party planner, right?”  Harry winked at him and Louis felt a warm flush rise up over his face.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”  

“Well, then, Mr. Styles.  I’ll have to put your planning skills to good use.”  Louis grinned, an entirely different feeling taking root in his chest.

Harry licked his lips and shot Louis a playful sideways glance.  “I guess so.”  

Louis stretched out, feeling a tentative sense of contentment setting in his bones.  Maybe Liam getting engaged wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.  

“So, Harry.  What do you hope to get out of your first academic math conference?”

Harry grinned and looked at Louis sideways, the morning sun illuminating the side of his face beautifully.  “I’m just open to whatever comes my way.”

Louis bit his lip, a nervous flip in his stomach as he thought, me too, me too.

****

Louis was going to kill Carmen.

“Is this weird?  Oh God.  I’m sorry.  This is weird, isn’t it?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, the effort having no effect on his wayward curls.  “No, I mean.  It’s not  _ ideal _ .  But...we’ll manage.”

Carmen booked them one room.  One room, two beds — thank goodness.  But one room.  Louis had frantically texted her only to find out that’s what the dean had approved.  One room.  The hotel was fully booked and they couldn’t get an additional room.

Of course.

“Fuck.”  Louis muttered, tossing his bag on one of the beds.  

Harry walked further into the room, laying his own bag on the other bed.  “Hey — Louis.  Honestly.  It’s fine —” his voice didn’t sound fine, “We can get through this.  Um…”  Harry’s eyes darted around the small, cramped room.  “Why don’t we...uh… _ fuck _ .  We’ll get through it.”  Harry turned and sat on the bed across from where Louis was standing.  

Louis heard him mutter  _ ‘shit’  _ under his breath and he felt a hot stab of humiliation.

To Louis, it sounded like Harry was desperately trying to see the good in this situation and it confused him.  Because…just last week Harry had admitted to being attracted to Louis, having feelings for him or something.  And now, now he was acting like rooming together was going to be a chore — something to  _ get through _ .  Embarrassment heated up Louis’ cheeks as he felt his stomach plummet.  Fuck his life.  Honestly.  Being with Harry was starting to feel like being on a roller coaster.

“Yeah. Ok.  Sure.”  He didn’t look at Harry, as he pushed his bangs off his face, and started to unpack his bag, laying out his sweater and dress pants for his presentation, looking for the closet so he could hang them up.

“Hey.   _ Louis _ .”  Harry’s voice was soft and plaintive, and close — right behind him.

Louis turned and was startled for a moment by the stark urgency in Harry’s vibrant green eyes.  “Yeah?”  He whispered.  Harry was just a few feet away from him and Louis could almost sense how warm he would be if he inched just a little bit closer.  

“It’s fine.  It — it will be fine, ok.  I just.  Don’t freak out.  This isn’t exactly ideal, right?  It’s hard enough to...like, keep my hands off of you during normal situations.  And, sleeping just a foot away from you?   _ Fuck _ .”  He ran his hand through his hair and backed up, looking down at the worn carpet at his feet.  “Don’t worry.  I’m not gonna like... _ accost _ you during the night.”  

And  _ what _ ?  “Harry.  I wasn’t thinking that.  I was…”

“What?”  Harry’s head was quirked to the side and his expression was soft and tender.

“I thought you were upset because you have to room with me — that you don’t…”  He waved his hand around, stopping himself from saying anything else that might embarrass himself further. “Whatever.”  

Harry smiled and shook his head slightly.  “You — you what?  No.  Um.   _ No _ .”  

Louis smiled because Harry was starting to blush and he looked so pretty with that pale pink flush crawling up over his pale skin.  “What?”

“If anything, I’m upset because it’s going to require a great deal of self control.  I think…”  he bit down on his plump bottom lip, Louis’ eyes tracking the movement unconsciously, “I think that it will be fucking impossible to keep my hands off of you.”

Louis felt his breath catch and he felt hot all over, caught in the heat of Harry’s gaze.  “ _ Oh _ ,” he said.  

“Right.  So.  Yeah.  Not unhappy about rooming with you.  At all.”  Harry smiled softly and backed away.  Louis watched him turn and admired the way his t-shirt stretched across his back while he unpacked his bag.  So Harry didn’t think he was a total creep. He turned back to his own bag, hiding a private smile that threatened to completely eclipse the sun.

****

“So, these things are like a total drag.  But it’s good to network and make connections, you know?”  Harry was next to Louis as they walked into the cavernous gilded ballroom.  There were high top bistro tables set up all around and a bar at the far edge of the room.  Servers were walking around the room, moving fluidly among the clusters of people conversing here and there with hors d'oeuvres.  

Harry fidgeted with his hair, which Louis had come to recognize as his nervous tell.  “Can I just stick by you?” He said, hoarse and uncertain.

“Of course!  I’ll introduce you to some people.  You’ll be fine.”  Secretly Louis was happy Harry would be by his side all night.  It made him feel excited to feel Harry’s warmth seeping into his own skin and to know it was his responsibility to take care of Harry.  It sent a possessive flutter throughout his body, the word  _ mine  _ zipping through his pheromone-addled brain.

And, no.  Nope. Not happening.  

No matter how hard Louis tried to reign it in, there was something about Harry that kept his brain at half mast.  Well, not  _ only  _ his brain.  

They slowly made their way around the room, stopping at the bar for a couple of drinks.  Harry was charming, of course, and Louis felt like he could spend the rest of his life just watching him talk to people and worm his way into their hearts, like he did Louis’.  Harry was effusive when he needed to be and subdued when that was called for.  He held his own with the geeky math aficionados in the group and cracked a few well-placed jokes with the less serious.  

He was like a chameleon — he just  _ fit _ .  

About three gin and tonics later and a small plate of bacon wrapped figs and broccoli mini quiches, Louis had found himself in the corner with the crew from Berkeley.  It turned out that all of them were sort of fanboys of Louis’ and were eager to see his presentation the next day.  

“Yeah, man.  We like, teach you in our senior seminars.”

“That’s flattering.  Thanks.”  Louis scanned the room, looking for a lanky boy with long wavy hair and startling green eyes.  

The man across from him pushed his glasses up on his face and beamed.  “It’s just an honor to meet you, you know?”

Louis smiled gracefully and shook his head.  “Nah.  I put my pants on the same way as you every day,” he paused, “using a quadratic equation, of course.”  

The table erupted in laughter and Louis sipped from his glass, effectively draining his drink.  He felt a little woozy, the need to get some real food in him pressing, especially if he was going to keep drinking.  Again, he looked around the room, a slight fizzle of panic edging up his spine when he failed to locate Harry again.  He hoped he was ok, it was his job to protect him after all.

Protect him.  

As if a bunch of math and poly-sci professors and researchers were dangerous.

Just then, Harry hurried into the room from the main entrance.  Louis smiled in relief when he saw him.  But...something was off.  

Harry looked flushed and his hair was matted to his face, almost as if he’d been in the rain.  There were dark splotches across the front of his wine colored silk shirt and his eyes looked frantic.  Then, their eyes locked and Louis felt his heart stutter.  

Harry looked as relieved to see Louis as Louis did to see Harry.

Harry blew a breath out of his mouth through pursed lips and he relaxed visibly.  Louis felt locked in time — the two of them staring at each other from across the room like they were in a movie, no one else in the room but them.  

“Dr. Tomlinson?”

“Hm?”  Louis tore his eyes away from Harry and turned to look at the Berkeley contingency.  “Oh.  Right, sorry.  Um...will you excuse me for a moment?”

Bernie from Berkeley — or was it Bert — gave him a disappointed smile and a slow nod as Louis disentangled himself from them.  He walked slowly, purposefully, toward the entrance of the grand ballroom, the soft lights making everything seem hazy, backlit with an amber hue that reminded Louis of a Botticelli painting — everything shadowed and fuzzy.  Harry’s chest rose and fell with the effort it was taking him to breathe and as Louis got closer he could see that Harry looked like he was sweating on top of being wet. 

“Harry?  You ok?”

“Me?”  He laughed nervously, eyes flitting around the room quickly.  

“No the guy behind you,” Louis quipped, using one of his dad’s old expressions.

Harry turned quickly, dramatically, his hands raised in a defensive position.  Louis stopped laughing and watched him curiously.  What was he doing?  “ _ Harry _ ?” Louis asked tentatively. 

Harry turned back around and his expression made Louis stop abruptly.  He looked  _ fierce _ .  Angry and determined, so different than his usual laid back, happy-go-lucky look.  It was...shocking.  

“Harry?”  

“Louis.  Um.  Hi.”  Louis watched as Harry’s face morphed back into its usual calm demeanor.  But he was still rattled.  And…  _ ‘hi’ _ ?  What the hell?  Something was definitely off. 

“What —?”

“You said behind me...um.”

“I was kidding.”

“Kidding.  Right.”  He ran his hand through his hair, the mixture of sweat and water holding it back off of his forehead for the moment.  

Louis shifted nervously from foot to foot still watching his grad assistant carefully.  “You ok?”

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Just...um.  It’s raining outside.”

“I can see that,” Louis laughed, reaching out and wiping away some drops from the center of Harry’s chest.  His skin was cool and Louis could feel his heart beating quickly under his palm.  “What were you doing outside?” he wondered.

“I um…”  Harry looked around nervously again, and Louis was starting to get worried about him,  _ for  _ him.  What if Harry was having some sort of episode or something?

He watched Harry take a few deep breaths and then a smile slowly crept over his face.  It was fascinating to watch — a complete transformation.  “What’s going on Harry?  You’re...you’re starting to kind of freak me out.”

“Oh shit.  No, I — “  He ran a hand over Louis’ shoulder and down his bicep, stopping to squeeze the tense muscle.  He kept his hand there as he continued, “I just went to the car to get something.  I’m fine.  I think I’m just tired?  And maybe a little drunk?”  

Louis smiled at him, feeling his heart rate settle with Harry’s hand on his body.  It was this strange mixture of desire and calmness.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Can we like —” he gestured out toward the hallway, “can we grab something more substantial to eat?  I can’t eat another cucumber sandwich.”

Louis laughed and nodded his head.  “Yeah.  I’d like that.  Lead the way.”  

Harry gave his arm another squeeze and dragged his heavy hand down the length of Louis’ arm.  Louis felt his entire body respond, warmth racing through him like a tidal wave, the feeling of Harry’s hand on his body magnetic, grounding.  Harry slipped out of the door and waited for Louis to enter the hallway before he started walking toward the hotel’s restaurant.  Louis sidled up next to him and started telling him about the Berkeley boys — as he’d come to think of them — he could smell the sweet citrus scent of Harry and could feel the cool humidity coming off of his wet skin.  As they walked past of bank of floor to ceiling windows, he glanced outside.  

The parking lot was dark, but he could make out several cars parked in the narrow spaces and could see lights from the businesses across the street.  Harry placed a firm hand at the small of his back as they entered the restaurant, distracting Louis for a moment, the solid heat of it searing through his shirt into his skin beneath.  In the back of his mind, Louis idly recognized that the pavement outside wasn’t wet.

****

Life choices.

Louis was back to evaluating those.  

Which was kind of hard to do while tipsy on hotel gin and a half a bottle of wine. 

Decidedly  _ not  _ a good life choice.  

“You’re kind of a lightweight, huh, Lou?”  Harry’s deep voice rumbled straight through Louis leaving him shaken to his core.

“How did you end up with such a deep voice?”  Louis wondered.  Unfortunately, aloud, adding, “‘S really, really hot.”

Harry chuckled and Louis watched the way his mouth curved up into a pretty smile.  It reminded him of a water slide.  Slick and wet and curved.  Safe but a little dangerous at the same time.  He found himself wondering if his dick looked like that.  Then he was laughing, because.  Slick, wet and curved — sure. But safe?  Dangerous.  Harry glanced at him curiously as he clung to Harry’s side.  Harry slid the plastic key into the hotel room door, holding Louis up with one strong arm around his waist.  He pushed the door open and half carried, half dragged Louis through the threshold. 

“Genetics for the voice,” Harry said in a demanding, controlling voice, “and no more alcohol for you the rest of this trip.” 

Louis hummed, because  _ yeah _ .  He could get used to Harry bossing him around.  

“H.?  Is ok if I call you H.?”  Louis sprawled out on his bed like a starfish, luxuriating in the feeling of the room finally standing still.  

Harry giggled as he pulled out what looked like a shaving kit and some clothing from his overnight bag.  Too bad about that — the clothing.  “Yes, Lou.  You can call me H.”

“Good.  Because that other name?  The long one?  Too long.  Too, too long.”

Harry sat on the edge of Louis’ bed looking down at him fondly.  “I can see how Harry would be so much harder to say than H.”

“Tis.  So hard.”  

Louis thought he saw Harry’s eyes darken at the word ‘hard’.  But maybe not.  Speaking of hard…Louis shifted because he could feel himself trying to thicken up in his pants.  He wasn’t like most of his peers — alcohol didn’t seem to affect his ability to get hard.  Performing on the other hand?  

“You’re pretty.”  Louis clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shit.”

Harry smiled and ran his hand through Louis’ fringe.  Louis tilted his head into the touch.   _ Harry _ .  Pretty, pretty Harry.

“So are you,” Harry said softly.  

They stared at each other for a moment and Louis smiled dopily at the other man.   _ Pretty _ .  

“You’re something else Louis Tomlinson.”  Harry smoothed Louis’ hair down once more before sighing and getting up.  

“Don’t go!” Louis whined.  He missed how warm Harry was.  Always so warm

Harry smiled down at him and Louis tried really, really hard not to look at his dick.  He may have peeked.  “I’m gonna take a shower, Lou.  Go to sleep.”

“Nooooooo...don’t go…” Louis whined again.

“Babe.  If I don’t go I’m pretty sure we’ll regret it in the morning.”

Louis felt a thrill go through him at the word ‘babe’.  He grinned up at him.  He was ok with regretting it in the morning — especially if it meant getting his mouth on him tonight.  

Harry laughed and mussed his hair a little more roughly.  “You’re impossible.”

Louis giggled and watched Harry walk away.  “I’ll bring you a pain reliever.  I think you’re gonna need it in the morning.”

The last thing Louis remembered was the sound of the shower running, the sound like rain on dry pavement, and the smell of citrus trees under a southern california sky.  

****   
_ Liam. _

_ LIAM _

_ LIIIIIIIAAAAMMM _

For God’s sake Louis give a guy a chance to respond

_ I fucked up _

What did you do this time?

_ Gin _

Ah shit

_ And wine _

Louis.  What did you do?

_ Told Harry he was pretty _

…

_ And maybe told him I liked his deep voice _

Louis!  You are supposed to be keeping your distance.  Being professional.

_ One room Liam!  Grimshaw only approved one room! _

That doesn’t mean you should get wasted and confess all of your feelings

_ Shut up _

Just then Louis heard the key in the door and he quickly texted:   _ gotta go _ .

Harry ambled in, completely dressed — looking way too good for a mathematician's conference — carrying what looked like a tray with some breakfast food and coffee on it.  

“Tell me that’s food.  And it’s for me,” Louis grumbled.

Harry smirked and placed the tray on the table between their beds.  “Here you go...sleep talker.”

Louis looked up at Harry with stricken eyes.  “Wh — what?  Oh god.  It just keeps getting better.”  He cradled his aching head in his hands and shivered.  When he woke up sometime in the night he took off his pants and shirt, flinging them somewhere in the room, and managed to crawl under the covers in just his underwear.  In the morning, Harry was gone so he peed and then crawled back in bed, taking the pain relievers and water Harry must have left for him.  

Harry laughed and flopped on the bed opposite.  “Kidding.  You just mumbled a lot.  Nothing discernable.”  Watching Harry move so quickly hurt Louis’ eyes.  “Brought some bagels and coffee.  I’m afraid that’s all they really had down in the breakfast area.  We can order something?”

Louis shook his head.  “No.  I think — I think I’ll try this and um...see how it goes.”  

Harry gave him a sly grin.  Fucker.  

“So um...sorry if I said anything, um.  Embarrassing last night?”  Louis tore a piece of his bagel off and chewed on it slowly.  His stomach roiled; he willed it to calm down.  He was still a little confused about how things went down the night before.  He remembered the reception and the fact that Harry had gone missing.  He remembered drinking — probably too much.  And he remembered eating dinner and getting back to their room.  But the whole night was hazy.  He blamed the gin.  

Harry sipped from his cup and wrapped both hands around it.  “It’s ok.  You were...cute.”

Louis groaned.  “Don’t patronize me.”

“‘M not.  You were.  Cute, that is.”  Harry smiled around his cup, looking away quickly when Louis met his eyes.  

“It was fun last night, wasn’t it?” Louis asked, hating the uncertainty in his voice.

Harry looked at him for a beat, a soft slow smile taking over his face.  “Yeah.  It really was.”

Louis felt light and floaty, still unabashedly hungover, but better now that he knew last night and how comfortable they were with each other wasn’t all in his mind.

“Hm.  Ok.  Well.  No more alcohol for me this trip.  As it is, I’m going to have to pull myself together in time for my presentation today.”  Louis’ stomach was somersaulting over the fact that Harry was still smiling and wait a minute...he had called Louis ‘cute’.  Again.  Louis could get used to that.  

“Good thing it’s this afternoon, yeah?”  

“Definitely.”

Louis ate his bagel and Harry drank his coffee, the silence soft and tentative between them.  It was Harry who spoke first.  “So, I’m gonna catch a few sessions this morning.  Wanna meet up for lunch?”

Louis must have looked surprised because Harry shifted uncomfortably and continued, “I mean.  I figured since I was here…”

“No, no, of course!  Of course you should go to the sessions.  Of course…” Louis couldn’t put his finger on it but he felt sad that Harry was going to be away from him all morning.  What a sap he was.  He had thought maybe they’d spend the morning together, Louis ushering Harry around, impressing him with all his...math knowledge. 

Oh, Christ.  He was really losing it.

Harry watched him carefully before getting up, grabbing his messenger bag and folder with conference credentials.  “So...lunch?”  

“Yeah. Definitely.” Louis gave him a quick smile.  He focused on his bagel and the uncertainty growing in his gut.  There was something looming inside of him, pushing at his heart, needling at him incessantly.  Something he couldn’t name.  Almost like...shame.  Maybe he’d said something inappropriate last night and Harry was just being nice about everything.  About Louis getting drunk and about coming along to help out.  Maybe Harry had been lying all along about being attracted to Louis and, oh God...what if this entire trip was turning out to be a nightmare for Harry and he had tried to get away from Louis last night...and…

Louis had a flash of memory that struck his core.  In what seemed like another lifetime, although the pain of it still fresh and just below the surface, Louis had been naive and trusting —  _ God _ , so trusting.  His blind trust had been rewarded with a crippling heartbreak, the unexpectedness of it like a punch to the gut.  And this...this uncertainty with Harry made him wary.  The familiarity of what he was feeling was like a relentless ghost — taunting him, making him question every single thing. 

“See ya Lou.”  Harry called out, reverie broken, as he breezed out of the room, tearing Louis from his spiraling self-doubt.  

Louis sighed, and picked up his phone again.  

_ Li — I’m an idiot. _

****

The morning sessions went by quickly, most of it uninspiring for Louis.  He walked through the conference looking for a familiar head of chestnut curls and broad shoulders, but Harry was nowhere to be found.  Finally, when it was time for lunch, Louis found his way to the ballroom and anxiously waited by the door.  Most of the seats were filled and still no sign of Harry.  Louis sighed and made his way to the Berkeley boys, who had promised they’d hold two seats for them.  

“Ahoy!  Boy genius!” Bernie exclaimed, making Louis blush right up to the tips of his ears.  “Where’s your friend?”

“Um.  He’s...he should be here soon.”  Louis checked his phone again.  Nothing. 

Servers were making their way around the room, depositing salad dressing, dinner rolls and pitchers of tea and coffee on the tables.  Louis felt a sinking weight settle in his stomach.  Something was wrong.  He knew it.  He’d had a...call it a  _ spidey sense —  _ moment last night when Harry had shown up wet and panting at the door during the reception.  He was having another one now.  Something wasn’t adding up.  Where was Harry?

The mathematicians were chatting eagerly all around him, comparing notes and telling bad puns and, normally, Louis would be all over it, but now?  With this feeling spiraling out of control in his chest? He just couldn’t get past the feeling that something was wrong.  With  _ Harry _ .

“Ladies and gentlemen…”  the keynote was being introduced and Harry wasn’t there yet.  

Louis felt queasy as he pushed away his uneaten salad.  The lights dimmed and the presentation started and Louis’ pulse was jackhammering inside his throat.  Just as he was about to bolt from the room and go back to his and Harry’s room, certain Harry had fainted, or worse, stranded him — Harry was suddenly there, by his side, slipping into the vacant seat next to him.

Louis turned and stared at him in disbelief.  Harry murmured, staring straight ahead at the speaker, “Sorry I’m late.”

Like last night, he was breathing heavy and was bathed in sweat.  He wasn’t soaking wet like last night, but he was sweating like he’d run a marathon.  Louis could see the sheen of it over his collarbones and in the dip of his throat.  His shirt was damp at the armpits and his hair was half in a bun and half strewn around his neck in messy ringlets. This time, however, he had a wide gash across the top of his knuckles.  The dried blood was a violent crimson smear against his pale skin and there was a dark purple bruise blooming on the underside of his jaw. It made Louis’ skin crawl — not just the uncertainty of it, but the violence of it.  The way Harry looked; bloody and disheveled, it was like something out of the Twilight Zone.  Dread curled its icy fingers around the back of his neck and Harry...Harry was tucking a napkin into his lap and tearing into a dinner roll — like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Something inside Louis snapped.  Whatever had been happening with Harry —  _ to Harry _ — was far too reminiscent of the pain Louis had been running from.  The  _ memories  _ he’d been running from.  A furious rush of anger and suspicion eclipsed his vision and he couldn’t even look at Harry in that moment.  Because, Harry and his murky lies over the past few days felt too much like broken promises and half truths and the kind of secrets that nearly  _ destroyed  _ Louis before.  The one thing that Louis couldn't tolerate — not anymore — was blatant lying.  The thoughts circling in Louis’ head made him want to vomit.

Louis blinked back tears and pushed his chair back, knocking his leg into the table, shaking all the silverware and glasses.  Several of the Berkeley boys shot curious glances his way and Harry actually had the gall to look surprised.  Well,  _ fuck him, _ Louis thought, pushing his chair back and scrambling for his things.  

He raced from the ballroom, jogging down the hall toward their room.   _ Just like last time, just like last time _ ...his mind was racing and he couldn’t make sense of anything.  

He bolted inside their room, not realizing that Harry was right behind him until he felt the heat of his body closing in on him as he crossed over the threshold.

“Louis?  What the hell’s gotten into you?” Harry demanded.  

_ Demanded _ .  

“ _ Me _ ?  What the hell’s gotten into  _ me _ ?” Louis shouted.  “I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”

Harry looked shocked for a moment before he schooled his features into their normal calm mask.  Louis was so sick of  _ that _ , too.  All of the mixed messages and the tiptoeing around each other.  Louis was attracted to Harry and Harry  _ said _ he was attracted to him.  But then...there was all of this self-doubt swimming in Louis’ head along with the memories, the fucking  _ memories _ , and Louis thought he might scream from all of it.

“Lou —” 

“No.  Wait.  I get to talk this time.  You listen.”  

Harry’s eyebrows shot up but he sat down on one of the beds, crossing his arms over his chest, leveling an unreadable look at Louis.  Louis tried not to notice the way Harry’s biceps bulged under the thin material of his dress shirt or the way his nostrils flared slightly as he worked to control his breathing.  Louis’ tried, but failed.

Louis paced back and forth for a moment, collecting his thoughts.  “You — you are so…”  He huffed out a breath and threw his hands up in the air.  “You’re so  _ infuriating _ .”

Harry’s opened his mouth to respond, but stopped himself.

“I can’t figure you out.  You disappeared last night and come back like everything is fine.  And it was.  It was fine.  It was  _ great _ .  We had fun.  And, I know…” Louis paused, pacing again, because Harry’s gaze, Harry’s deep green eyes seeping right into Louis’ chest cavity, wrangling his heart like a wild animal...it was too much to take right then.  Too intense.  Like he could see right through him.  

He was angry, dammit, and if Harry kept looking at him like that, Louis couldn’t be held responsible for what happened.

“I know that you said —  _ we  _ said — that we couldn’t.  This,” Louis gestured between them, spitting the words out, “this couldn’t happen.  And I get it.  But last night...was so…”

“Yeah.  I know,” Harry breathed out, deep and thoughtful, his voice like a whisper against Louis’ skin.  “Easy.”

“Right.”  Louis stopped and stared at him.  So Harry felt something too.  Louis didn’t imagine it. 

The drapes were open just a few inches and the sun streaming in from outside was framing Harry in golden light, edged with pale blue and it was... _ he _ was so, so beautiful.  And smart.  And kind.  And  _ not  _ telling Louis something.  

“And then today.  Today — you disappeared again and turn back up all… messy hair, sweaty, clothes rumpled and I swear I could smell someone else’s cologne...and you looked like you got beat up?  What the fuck am I supposed to think?  Something isn’t right here Harry.  And I think I deserve to know.”

Harry paused and licked his lips before standing to walk the short distance across the room to where Louis was standing still with his fists closed at his sides, trembling.  He closed in on him, part predator, part shamen or something and...Louis let out a harsh breath and looked up at him, anger and... _ arousal _ swimming in his veins.  

Harry’s big hands wrapped around his shoulders and Louis could feel the warmth of him cover his body like bathwater.  He wanted to push him away — bat his ginormous fucking hands away and run, bolt from the room.  But instead, instead he started to fall apart, sinking into Harry, into the heat of him, the comfort of his broad chest.    

“Sshh.  It’s ok, Louis.  It’s ok,” Harry whispered, pulling Louis close, folding him up inside his embrace.  Harry was big, solid, like something permanent.  Something Louis could wrap himself around and hold on to.  For a very long time.  Maybe even forever.

And fuck if that didn’t confuse the hell out of him.

Harry smelled like an orange grove and Christmas and, as unappealing as it might be, sweat.  The combination was intoxicating to Louis.  But still.  Louis wanted — no,  _ needed  _ — answers.  “I…” he tried pushing away, but was held firm in Harry’s arms.

“Just let me hold you for a minute,” Harry murmured into Louis’ hair, soothing,  _ safe _ .  Louis hated feeling fragile.  Somehow he felt less fragile in Harry’s arms.  He wanted to hate it, he did, but he couldn’t break away.  It felt too much like he was supposed to be there.

Louis wasn’t sure how long they stood there, slowly rocking back and forth to non-existent music in the dim hotel room, the sounds of the hotel alive and bustling all around them, but the two of them in the quiet eye of the storm.  The next time Louis opened his eyes his heart wasn’t racing any longer and his mind felt clearer and he wasn’t... _ angry _ anymore.  He was still confused, wanted answers, but he felt calmer, centered.  Harry had that effect on him.  

“You want answers.”

Louis looked up and took a deep breath, slowly nodding.  “Yeah.  I do.”

“And I want to give them to you.”  At this angle Harry’s eyes were a deep evergreen tinged with blue, colors shifting like the sea at dawn.  

Louis’ eyes dropped to Harry’s lips.  They were so full, so pink, and he wondered for probably the millionth time what it would feel like to have them on his own — to taste them, to lick over them...he knew the other man would taste like nothing Louis had ever tasted before, and would probably  _ feel _ even better.  Just being hugged by him made Louis want to curl up and sleep in his arms forever.  Kissing him would be...would be unimaginable.  

Then, as if there was finally someone listening to Louis’ prayers, Harry’s lips brushed against his — a feather light touch that sparked like magic between them, waking every one of Louis’ long dormant nerve endings.  He gasped into the press of Harry’s sweet soft lips, and, with his mouth open, Harry took it as an invitation and licked inside, gently, tentatively.  

It was..it wasn’t like flying or soaring through a thousand light and airy clouds on a moonlit night.  No, it was...it was like standing firmly in place, with strong arms wrapped around him and his feet rooted to where he stood, the smell and feel of Harry all around him.  Strong, safe.  Hot with a steady heartbeat against his own.  It was tenderness and reverence and it felt holy,  _ sacred _ , somehow.  

Gone were the feelings of anger and distrust and chaotic misgivings...kissing Harry erased it all.  Erased it and put in its place solace, comfort... _ heat _ . 

Louis pulled Harry closer so that their bodies were flush and he could feel the way Harry’s chest expanded and contracted in time with his.  Harry’s tongue was urgent, but not demanding.  The way he moved his mouth...it stirred something inside of Louis that he forgot existed.  It made him want  _ more _ .  It made him feel reckless; wild with desire.  The complete surrender of who was who and what should or shouldn’t happen.  He just wanted to keep kissing Harry until they ran out of breath, until they couldn’t tell where one began and one ended.  

Until Louis couldn’t remember why they shouldn’t be doing this.

“Lou…”  Harry was panting and Louis could see that his face was flushed and his lips were a deeper shade of pink and it made Louis curious to see if they could go darker, deeper pink or red just from kissing.  Kissing Louis.

“Harry.  God.  Please.  Just…”  Louis tangled his hands into Harry’s hair, pulling the remnants of the bun loose, the silky tendrils like satin between his fingers.  “Just kiss me again.”

Harry kissed him.

This time it wasn’t so soft, so polite.  It was hungry, edgier.  It felt like moving too fast and not knowing if the brakes would work, a brick wall ahead shimmering like a mirage.  Louis’ brain was screaming at him to stop, stop, stop...but his body was completely in control of the situation, making Louis feel like kissing Harry right in that moment was the only thing that mattered.  It was life or death; the difference between breathing and suffocating.  Nothing else mattered but the sweet, sweet taste of Harry’s mouth and the firm feel of muscles flexing against him, pulling him down, down, down...  

Harry groaned and pushed Louis back so that his ass hit the edge of the dresser.  Louis slid on top of it so he could wrap his legs around Harry’s waist.  At this angle, there was no space, no room to  _ not _ feel the other, to not feel how the kiss was affecting each of them.  At this angle, Louis felt more grounded, more sure than ever.  At this angle he was swimming in hot, dizzy arousal.

Harry’s arms were tight around him, pulling him impossibly closer.  His hands slid down to the small of Louis’ back and he pulled him even closer, so close that their half hard cocks rubbed against each other through the layers of fabric and Louis threw his head back and cried out — it felt so good.  And it had been so long.  So long since Louis felt like he could let himself go, let himself trust someone.  

_ Trust someone _ .

“Harry.   _ Harry… _ ”  

Harry’s mouth was making its way up the side of Louis’ neck, sending shock waves through his body, hot and persistent, making him almost forget…

“Harry, stop.  We need...we need to  _ stop _ .”

Harry pulled away and,  _ God _ .  He was a vision, with his hair tangled and cheeks pink and eyes all glassy and heavy.  He looked like someone Louis could throw it all away for.  Someone he’d forget everything for.

“Oh shit.  Louis.   _ God _ .”  Harry stepped back, taking his warmth and, regrettably, his cock, with him.  

“No.  No!”  Louis shot off the dresser and stepped back into the other man’s space.  “No.  I mean.  We need to talk.  I need…”  What did he need again?  Right.  Answers.

“You need answers.  And I want to give them to you.  I do...but…”  Harry glanced at the clock between their beds and ran a hand through his hair.  He sucked in a deep breath and stared back down at Louis.  “God.  You make me crazy.”

Louis felt a shiver zip through him, making him almost shake from the way Harry’s words felt.  “Crazy’s good, right?” He whispered.

“Fuck, yes.”  Harry leaned down to slide their lips together, chaste, but still searing and breath-stealing.  

Harry pressed their foreheads together for a moment before he pulled away and said, “You have a presentation to get to and I…”

Louis looked up, resisting the urge to pull him down to kiss again.  “You?”

“I have to clean up and go listen to this really, really hot and rather brilliant researcher conduct what will surely be a fascinating presentation.”  Harry’s words came out slow and drawn out and  _ God _ , if that didn’t make Louis’ dick protest the imminent separation…

“Right.  Well.  I hope  you find it...um... _ arousing _ .”  

Harry bit his lip and groaned.  “You are going to kill me Professor Tomlinson.”

“Likewise, Mr. Styles.”  

Harry bit his bottom lip and let Louis go, giving him a soft smile before saying, “I promise.  I’ll tell you what I can later, okay?” 

“Okay,” Louis replied, knowing it wasn’t enough but hoping it would be.  

Harry turned to walk toward the bathroom, giving Louis a good look at his endless lean legs and the round swell of his behind.  Harry stopped and, looking over his shoulder, he smirked,  “See you there?”

Louis looked away quickly.  Shit.  Caught staring at Harry’s ass was not exactly what he’d call subtle.  “Yup. Um.  Just...gonna.  Get my things,” he fumbled for the words and felt his cheeks burn as he heard Harry shut the door, muffling the deep rumble of an amused chuckle.

****

“To the one and only...the great Dr. Tomlinson!”

The Berkeley boys were high on cheap vodka and and a full day of numbers and formulas and research and geeky math jokes.  Louis was determined not to get drunk tonight, so he’d been sipping the same glass of wine all night.  

His presentation had gone off beautifully and Louis was relieved, but still wound tight.  He needed to find Harry and finish what they started.  And by that, he meant the conversation.  Although the kissing would be nice too.  More than nice.  Downright fantastic.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Answers first.  Kissing later.

There was a slight problem, however.  Harry was nowhere to be seen.  Again.

Louis wasn’t imagining things.  There was definitely a trend here.  Harry had been at the back of the room during Louis’ presentation, nodding along and sending Louis these encouraging little smiles but then, when it was over, as Louis fielded questions from participants — most of whom were the Berkeley boys — Harry had just...disappeared.  

_ Again. _

That was four hours ago.  Louis didn’t see him through dinner or during the closing keynote.  He didn’t see him during cocktail hour and he hadn’t seen him over the past hour while he and some others were having drinks in the hotel bar.  He had simply vanished.  

Louis was finding it hard to concentrate.  His thoughts were alternating between kissing Harry and slapping him upside the head.  It wasn’t like he had any claim to him or anything.  It was more like...he wanted to know why he kept disappearing with no explanation.  He wanted to know why it seemed like Harry wasn’t telling him the whole truth — why it seemed that there was more to Harry than met the eye.  It was making Louis nuts.  He felt like he was being lied to and that was something he just couldn’t tolerate.  Not anymore.

When Josh, his ex, had started disappearing for days at a time, Louis had always chalked it up to work commitments or Josh needing to spend time with his aging parents, who, according to Josh, lived out of town.  He had lied to Louis over and over again, and Louis just bought it.  Hook, line and sinker.  All of it.  They say love is blind.  Blind and stupid, in Louis’ case. 

He never considered Josh was forgetting to mention one very, very important detail.

The fact that he had a wife.  

When Louis found that out it was like being cut with a dull knife, the pain a throbbing ache that never seemed to get better — it just worsened with time, infested with the infection of self-doubt and loathing and betrayal.  It hurt more than anything.  That lie was worse than all the others.

It hurt more than finding out that Josh told the review committee that Louis had come onto him.  It hurt when he heard Josh say that Louis had pursued him, blackmailed him and forced him to have sex with Louis.  It hurt hearing Josh deny their relationship — their true relationship — to the room full of strangers with stern faces and folders with Louis’ name on it.  It hurt more than hearing — from the student-faculty affairs chair (an ironic name for the committee deciding upon Louis’ fate as an academic, he was well aware)  — that the committee had ultimately decided that Louis had been coerced by a senior faculty member, and that, with counseling and proper remediation he could return to his academic pursuits.  At another college. 

It hurt more than watching Josh walk out of his life without so much as a backward glance.

It was deceit and confusion and hurt.  And wondering what he did wrong, what he did to deserve that pain and humiliation.  This  _ thing  _ with Harry?  It felt a little –– no –– a  _ lot _ like that.  

Which.  Really.  Louis had no right to feel those things.  But he couldn’t help it.  After Josh, Louis felt that somehow, in some twisted way, he had not been deserving of real love.  If what he thought he had with Josh was real and it turned out to be a complete and total lie...who was to say he would ever be able to trust his own judgment when it came to relationships again?  

All the same, here he was, pining after a man he really didn’t know a whole lot about.  It was like he dropped from the sky and landed in Louis’ lap (he wished) and then wormed his way under his skin only to remain a complete mystery. It was frustrating and it was opening up old wounds that Louis would rather keep locked down tight forever and never acknowledge again. 

When Louis really thought about it he found that he didn’t know that much about Harry at all.  Every turn of conversation seemed to find Harry evading his questions and fuck, he was skillful at it.  With alarming certainty, Louis was finding it very difficult to name more than a few cursory things about Harry — who he was, what his background was.  

Surely that wasn’t normal?  

Shaking his head, Louis swallowed thickly, his throat tight and eyes watery as thoughts of Josh, interspersed with the reality of his unclear relationship with Harry, assaulted him.  It was past 11:00 pm and since it didn’t look like Harry was going to make an appearance any time soon, Louis started to say his goodbyes.  Bernie grabbed onto him, begging him not to go. 

“C’mon Louisssss.  You can stay for one more, cantcha?”  The other man slurred, breathing a copious amount of vodka vapor into Louis’ face.

“No, I’m afraid not, Bernie.  Gotta get my beauty sleep.”  He gently tried to extricate himself from Bernie’s octopus arms.

Bernie wasn’t getting the hint.  To make matters worse, the rest of the Berkeley contingency seemed to have wandered off to the karaoke machine at the other end of the bar, leaving them alone in the corner booth they had all been occupying.  “Stay Louisssss.  Let me p — pick that beautiful brain of yours.”  Bernie accentuated each word by getting closer and closer to Louis’ face, making Louis wince and shrink back with each sharp jerk of the other man’s body.  

Ok.  Seriously, this was getting annoying.  Louis was already rankled at Harry’s disappearance and he was starting to get a headache from the one glass of wine that he’d consumed.  He just wanted to get back to their room, crawl under the covers and wake up sometime in the future when he and Harry had figured out how madly in love they were with each other.  Not too much to ask.  

“I knew you were s — special the first moment I laid eyes on you.”  Bernie was blabbering on and on and Louis was trying to figure out how to politely extricate himself.  He was also simultaneously thinking about just kneeing him in the balls and making a run for it.  

Suddenly, Bernie was jerked backward, his back hitting the back of the booth violently.  He blinked blearily up at the shadow looming above them and…

“Harry?”  Louis squawked.

“Is there a problem here?”  Harry glowered, his eyes never leaving Bernie’s face.

Bernie was a sweaty mess and he bumbled around for a second before stammering, “No, no problem.  Was jus’ tellin’ your boyfriend here h — how much I ‘mire his work.”

“Oh we’re not —”

Louis was cut off by Harry’s deep voice and the feeling of his hands on Louis’ hips, hauling him out of his seat.  “Yeah, well.  I think he’s done here, aren’t you Lou?”  

Harry’s eyes were gleaming in the low light and Louis could see anger warring with something that looked a bit like jealousy.  “Y — yeah.  I’m done.”

Harry stared Bernie down for another second before pushing Louis forward gently, a firm hand around his waist, leading him out of the bar and into the deserted corridor.  

“What was that?” Louis hissed.  He was oddly turned on.  And a little annoyed.  He could fight his own battles.  Couldn’t he?

Harry just stared ahead, pulling Louis down the hall with him.  Louis yanked himself free, jerking the two of them to a stop.  Harry turned sharply and stared over Louis’ head for a moment before looking him in the eye.  The spark of anger was there, but the way Harry was hulking over Louis, possession and entitlement thrumming through his body and willing Louis to  _ submit,  _ was terrifying.  It was...it was like Harry on  _ crack _ .  Super Harry.  Harry always had an air of command about him — but it was more like he was comfortable in his own skin, and knew he was smart and competent.  But this was different.  This was like, a man on fire.  A man looking for a fight.

Over Louis.

Louis wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I didn’t like the way he was touching you.”

Louis stared at Harry in disbelief.  “Wha — what?  He wasn’t…” Louis blew out a frustrated breath.  “He wasn’t touching me.  He was…”

“He was  _ touching  _ you,” Harry stated with an air of finality, “and I didn’t like it.”  He turned and started walking toward their room.  

Louis watched him for a moment and exhaled again.  What the fuck?

“Harry!”  He stalked after Harry, Harry’s long legs making quick work of the winding hotel hallway.  What gave Harry the right to say who could touch Louis and who couldn’t?  

Louis caught up to Harry when they were a few doors away from their room.  “I’m talking to you!” Louis snapped, pulling at Harry’s arm.

Harry stopped and looked at him, his face contorted and red with anger.  Louis watched as Harry breathed sharply and frowned down at him, the furrow between his brows deepening. “Look — you don’t get to...you don’t get to do that.  Especially after...”  Louis bit his lip and considered his next words carefully.  

“After what?” Harry bit out.

“After you just fucking disappeared all day.  I mean,  _ Harry _ .  Where were you?”  Louis sputtered, fully expecting Harry to lie or avoid the answer.  

“I…”  Harry shifted and it was then that Louis noticed he was still gripping Harry’s arm tightly.  He let go of it like it burned his palm.  Harry watched him and grimaced, a look of sadness passing through his expressive eyes before he continued, softer, more direct.  “I got caught up.”  

“Caught up?”  Louis voice was sharp, despite the way he felt like he was being drawn closer and closer to Harry, the warmth of him calling out to Louis’ skin like a siren.

“Yeah.  Um...”  Harry wouldn’t look at him.  “Yeah.”  

Louis felt tears well up in his eyes and a lump rise in his throat.  For some reason Harry couldn’t, or  _ wouldn’t _ , tell him the truth and Louis felt that same confusion take over again.   _ Lies _ .   _ He’s lying to you _ .  

“Fine,” Louis said brusquely, walking ahead of Harry to their door.  

Harry followed, slowly, methodically, and opened the door, sighing heavily.  Louis pushed past him, gathering his thoughts.  He turned and saw Harry standing in the doorway.  “Aren’t you coming?”  It was one thing for them to argue quietly in the hallway, but to leave the door gaping open for anyone to walk by — when Louis was planning on getting to the bottom of this once and for all —  felt like a subversive invasion of privacy.

A look of sad resignation passed over Harry’s face.  “I got my own room.”

“You — you  _ what _ ?”  The night only kept getting better.

“I thought it was, um...better if we had separate rooms.”  Harry wouldn’t look at Louis and all Louis could do was stare at him, he was dumbfounded.  Harry finally looked up and added, “I checked and, um...they had a few that opened up, so I took one.”  As if that explained it — as if that explained anything.

They stared at each other, the few feet between them like a wide canyon, split open by the raw emotion threatening to eclipse Louis.  “Right,” Louis finally said, suddenly tired; so, so tired.  Fine.  If Harry wanted to lie to him and then avoid him,  _ fine _ .  Louis couldn’t keep up.  One minute the other man wanted him desperately and the next it was like he had some kind of plague.  

“I’m really sorry about this Lou.”  Harry looked like he might cry.  It was a very different look from the man who looked like he wanted to put his fist through a wall a few minutes ago.  Well, fuck him, Louis thought.  He doesn’t get any of Louis’ sympathy.  Not tonight.

Louis shook his head.  “Not as much as I am, Harry.”

Louis gently pushed the door closed, effectively locking Harry out of the room.  The silence was deafening — unanswered questions and half-truths screaming at Louis from every corner of the suddenly very, very empty room.


	4. Chapter 4

“Thanks, um...for the ride.”  Louis sat very still in the quiet car as Harry cut the engine off.

“No problem.”  Harry’s voice was deep and rough, probably from disuse, but, if he slept at all like Louis had the night before, it was probably from exhaustion too.  

It was way too sexy for Louis’ liking.

Louis didn’t want to get out of the car, but he didn’t exactly want to stay either.  The entire ride home had been eerily quiet, the two of them exchanging polite instructions and not-quite pleasantries when they first saw each other, then falling into a sullen silence.  But, still, Louis felt he should say something.   _Do_ something.  

The fact was that they would have to see each other this week at work, and the way things had happened over the last 24 hours had been _really_ awkward.  And heart-breaking.

“Louis.”  Harry spoke first.  Louis sighed in relief.

Turning to face the other man, Louis was hit once again with just how _striking_ he was.  He looked tired — dark half moons shadowing the delicate skin under his vibrant green eyes —  but still breathtakingly beautiful.  In the midday light, Louis noticed just how pale Harry’s skin was –– especially in contrast to the soft pink of his lips –– and he was struck by how much he wanted to feel the slickness of that mouth on his own again.  The memory of kissing Harry yesterday was visceral and hit Louis with the full force of how much he _wanted_ him.  

“Yeah?” Louis breathed out.

Harry leaned his head back on the headrest and rolled his face to the side, piercing Louis with his intense gaze.  Louis felt his heart stutter.  Fuck.

“I just feel like…”  he sighed and bit his bottom lip, eyes never leaving Louis.  “ _Fuck_ this is hard.”

Louis grimaced and fought the urge to bolt from the car.  Harry leaned forward and took one of Louis’ hands in his.  It was big and warm and comforting.  It anchored Louis in place, the juxtaposition of his body feeling safe with Harry, while his mind was screaming at him to run, like a double edged sword.

“Just say whatever you need to say, Harry,” Louis said, exasperated, sad.

“Look.  I can’t tell you everything.  I just can’t.  But I need you to know.  If things were different — _God_ , I wish they were different — if things were different…”

Louis’ head was swimming.  What was Harry even saying?  How many times could he tell Louis he wished things were different before crossing whatever arbitrary boundary line he had set up?  All Louis could surmise was that it had something to do with him.   Because, with the way Harry was acting, Louis was beginning to think that Harry had one hell of a secret and Louis couldn’t even begin to decipher it.  Louis had been down that road before, and he sure as fuck didn’t want to go there again.  

“I just wish things were more simple.  I do.  Because I really want you, Lou.   So much.”  The simplicity of Harry’s words were in direct contrast with the twisted emotion playing across his face.

Harry had just said he wanted Louis.  Harry wanted Louis.  Despite everything his brain was screaming at him in that moment, despite all the fear and the tingle of doubt he felt crawling up his spine, Louis’ breath caught in his throat because he wanted Harry too.  So much.  He watched Harry’s eyes darken and the tip of his tongue gloss over his full bottom lip.  “I…” Louis’ voice broke, “what are you hiding, Harry?”

Harry closed his eyes slowly and then opened them, staring wildly at Louis.  “Don’t ask again, Louis.  I can’t...I can’t say much more than that — I wish it were different, ok?”  His eyes were shiny and he looked like someone being torn apart from the inside out.  “Please?” He whispered, sounding so very small.

“Ok,” Louis whispered back, a look passing between them, opaque and fragile, a thin thread that, if pulled too taut, would snap.

Harry exhaled and let go of Louis’ hand, the emptiness it left behind feeling vast and hollow.  “Ok,” Louis said again, sadness and exasperation tugging at the barely closed wound inside his chest that had been left behind by Josh.  He pulled himself out of the car, grabbed his bag from the back seat, and gave Harry a small nod.  

“Bye Lou,” Harry murmured through the open window.

Louis turned and walked up his path to the front of his building.  Just before pushing his front door inward he turned and saw Harry watching him with a devastated look on his face.  He looked like how Louis remembered feeling at his grandmother’s funeral.  Sad.  Lost.  Slowly, Harry waved and pulled away, leaving behind unanswered questions and more confusion than Louis could even begin to sort out.

****

“What are you going to do then?”  Liam slid a full mug of tea across the breakfast bar to Louis.

“What can I do?  Really?  I mean.  He’s made himself clear.  We can’t be together. He has his reasons, I guess.”  Louis stared forlornly into his mug.  “I just wish I knew what they were.”

Liam fiddled with his empty cereal bowl.  “Was weird, though, wasn’t it?  That he kept disappearing?”

“Yeah,” Louis sighed and sipped the too hot tea.  The scalding liquid at least made him _feel_ something.  He was just so tired, so deadened inside, the situation with Harry bringing up so many unresolved feelings.

Liam looked deep in thought when Louis looked back up at him.  He was staring down at his thumbnail, picking at it viciously.  “Li?”

“Hm?  Oh!  Right.  Um…I’ll take Tamale out, yeah?”  He placed his mug in the sink and grabbed Tamale’s leash.  “Don’t want you to be late,” he said absently, looping the leash through the small dog’s collar and ushering him toward the back door.  Turning toward Louis he smiled softly.  “Hey, Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“You still ok for Friday?”

Louis stared at him blankly for a few moments until a hazy memory crept out from the depths of his subconsciousness.  “Oh, yes!  Of course.” Liam’s engagement party.  Fuck.  He really had forgotten about it.  He was supposed to be inviting some of their friends from work to celebrate at Clancy’s.

“You sure?”  Liam looked soft and uncertain and Louis wanted to hug him.  Here it was, the happiest and most exciting time of Liam’s life and Louis was preoccupied with a boy.  A boy he clearly couldn’t have.  

“Yes, Li.   _Yes_.”  He tried to sound convincing.  He didn’t feel very convincing.  “Promise.”

“Cool.”  Liam grinned and opened the door, letting in the icy chill of early winter, leading Tamale outside.  “Ok then.  I’ll...I’ll see you later.”

Louis gave him a half-hearted wave and watched the two of them leave.  He felt the cold wind leak inside his chest, making him shiver.  He shook his head, trying to clear it.  Fucking Mondays.

Harry was in his office when Louis got there.  He looked up sharply when Louis walked in, closing down the laptop, picking it up and moving quickly out of Louis’ chair. Harry looked good behind his desk.  Comfortable.  Smart.  He was earlier than usual, but Louis didn’t mention it.

“Morning.”  Harry’s voice was gruff, sleep worn.

“Hi.”  Louis hung his coat up and gently put his bag on his desk.  Harry slid into a chair at the table that served as his desk and gave Louis a sheepish grin.

“So…”  Harry said at the same time Louis started to ask Harry how his night was.  

They both laughed nervously and glanced at each other.  Their eyes caught and Louis held his breath.  He wondered when it wouldn’t _hurt_ to look at Harry.  Not just because he was so fucking beautiful, but because he wasn’t _his_ to touch — to smell, to kiss.  To hold.  

He wasn’t Louis’.  And that hurt.

“So, I updated your calendar and um...fixed those graphs we talked about.”

Louis nodded and shook himself out of the trance he was in.  Work.  Right.  They were at work.  “Thanks.  I, um...appreciate it.”  He slipped behind his desk and pulled his other laptop out of his bag.  

Harry turned away and opened his computer on the table and appeared to be going back to work.  Louis couldn’t help but think how remarkable it was that they had built this comfortable routine over the past few weeks and from the outside it looked as if today wasn’t any different.  Except it was terribly different.  They had kissed and Louis didn’t think he’d ever be the same.  

Time, apparently, was still marching forward.  Louis had work to do and it looked like Harry was resigned to working as well.  

Louis needed to work on a report that had to be finished by the end of the week, and Harry looked to be grading some undergrad work.  Louis exhaled and powered on his computer.  Work.  Right.  

Louis opened his email and saw he had a message from Dean Grimshaw.  It was a thank you for presenting at the conference and a request to see a proposal for Louis’ current research needs, which was...odd.  Louis had never had a dean so interested in his research.  His research was obscure and not altogether fascinating. In addition, it did very little to improve the university or the student experience at the university.  It was Louis’ singular interest, that wasn’t often shared by others in his program.  

He answered with a brief list of his short term goals and a few ideas as to how the university could support his needs — one of which was to keep Harry in his employ.  Not just because he was, well, Harry, but also because Louis could use the clerical help.  And Harry was good at keeping Louis organized.  

Sighing, Louis opened up the report he was supposed to be working on and started in, trying desperately to pretend the object of every one of his desires wasn’t sitting a few feet away from him.  The day passed quickly and the next time Louis looked up at the clock he realised it was time for their class — the one Louis taught and Harry attended.  Louis stretched and saved his work, watching the curve of Harry’s back as he bent over the table.  

So pretty.

“Harry?  It’s time for class,”  Louis said tentatively as he started to gather his things.  

“Yeah.  Um…”  Harry’s hair was a mess on top of his head and his brow was split with a deep furrow — the one he got when he was lost in thought, concentration blocking out everyone and everything around him.  

“What have you been working on?”  Louis inhaled and blew out the breath, willing himself to stay on his side of the office.  

Harry turned to look at Louis and gave him a small, shy smile.  “I got Liam’s party all set up.”

“Li — Liam’s party?”

“Yeah.  I knew that you’d be busy getting ready for finals and the conference presentation…”

At the mention of the weekend’s presentation both men went still.  Louis swallowed hard.  “Yeah?”

“I just, um...knew you’d be busy.  So.  Yeah.  I sent out the evites and texted with Clancy and got everything set up.”  

Louis stared at Harry and felt bewildered.  “Seriously?  You did all that for...for me?”

“Well, yeah.  It’s um...the least I could do, you’ve been pretty preoccupied.”

Preoccupied?  Louis let the words sink in and felt a surge of annoyance pass through him.  “The least — the least you could do?  Preoccupied?”

Harry’s cheeks colored and he opened his mouth to respond.  Louis cut him off.  “I don’t need your pity Harry.  I need you to do your job and to let me just forget what an embarrassment I made of myself this weekend.”

Harry stood up and started to walk toward him.  Louis put his hand up to stop him.  “No.  You know what?  Just.  No.  You can…”  he waved his hand around wildly, “you can just do whatever…”  Louis’ voice died out and he shook his head.  Harry stared at him with what could only be described as sadness and Louis hurriedly gathered his things, rushing from the office.  He got down the hall to the elevators before he could breathe.  

Fuck.  He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this.  He needed to get over Harry Styles and his beautiful face and even more beautiful mouth that spilled lies like water from a tap.  Leaning his back against the wall of the elevator he cursed the day Harry walked into his classroom.  

****

They weren’t exactly avoiding each other.  

But they were kind of avoiding each other.

Louis found himself spending less time in his office that week and more time working at home.  The few times they saw each other, conversation was stilted and very much all business.  Harry graded homework.  Louis set up lessons.  Harry did data entry for Louis’ latest round of research.  Louis dissected a new report from Pew Foundation while he also closed in on a new formula that he was certain would bring about a startling amount of new and exciting data regarding the last presidential election.

They worked.  And didn’t talk.

Saturday was fast approaching and Harry, true to his word, had organized the whole party.  Louis was grateful, even though Harry’s reason for doing it wasn’t exactly what Louis would have hoped for.  Louis looked across the office at the back of Harry’s head hunched over a spreadsheet that he’d printed and was making notes across.  It was the formula that Louis had been working on.  He indulged Harry, but was fairly certain the other man wouldn’t get much closer than he had gotten to figuring out the missing piece of the puzzle.  

“Harry?”

“Hm?”  He didn’t look up from his pencil and figures.

“Um...you’re coming tomorrow, right?”

Harry turned around quickly and met Louis’ eyes.  He was wearing a pair of glasses on the edge of his nose and his hair was a wild halo of curls around his face.  “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”

Louis looked down at his button up and flicked off a loose thread.  “Well, you pretty much planned the whole thing.  It’s only fair that you come.”

“I’d like to.  But I don’t want it to be…”  he cleared his throat.  “I don’t want it to be weird or anything.”

Louis grimaced.  Of course he would think that.  And of course it would be.  But they sort of needed to figure things out, so Louis did something he’d probably regret.  “You should come.”

Harry nodded his head slowly.  “Yeah.  Alright.  I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Louis shouldn’t feel the thrum of excitement beneath his skin.  But he did.

Fuck his body and its constant betrayal.

****

“Lou!  Come on!”

“Fuck you, Liam!”  

Louis was lying on his bed squeezing into his tightest jeggings.  He drew in a deep breath and held it, sucking his stomach in as far as he could.  Finally, finally, he was able to button them and get them zippered up.  He exhaled and hoped they wouldn’t blow apart at the seams, glad for the extra stretch in them.  They were tight.  But he looked pretty good in them, if he did say so himself.  

He stood up — well, rolled off the bed, actually — and looked himself over in the mirror.  The pants hugged the curve of his ass perfectly and he could just make out the outline of his dick.  He was hopeful he’d stay soft all night otherwise the pants would look obscene.  

Maybe that was the point.

The fitted royal blue sweater was feathery soft with a deep v-neck: it showed off exactly what Louis wanted it to — the curve of his hips and the blue of his eyes.  His arms actually looked like he’d been working out.  Which he hadn’t been — but that was beside the point.  The outfit made him look _hot_.  Made him look like he was looking to bring someone home.  

 _That_ was the point.  

He fixed his fringe one last time and joined Liam in the living room.  “Jesus, Li.  It’s not like it's your actual wedding or anything.”

Liam rolled his eyes and handed Louis his denim jacket.  “I know that _Lewis_.  I just think it’s in poor taste to show up to your own party late.”  He pulls his own jacket on and continues, “This is exactly why Soph and I are getting married in Vegas.”

“What?  So you don’t have to worry about looking like second fiddle to your best man?”  Louis grinned, wiggling his ass a little as he opened their front door.

“No, you little shithead.  So we won’t be late to our own wedding because of you.”

Louis leaned into Liam’s space and pecked him on the cheek.  He made sure it was an extra sloppy kiss.  “Aw.  Whatever you need to tell yourself Li-Li.”

Liam scoffed as Louis pushed past Liam and out the door.  “Well?  Are you coming?”

He could hear Liam swearing under his breath as he skipped down the walk.  It was going to be a good night.

****

It was decidedly _not_ a good night.  

First of all, most of the people Louis and Liam worked with were pretentious assholes.  But, the staff at Clancy’s were there and that helped to balance things out somewhat.  They ran out of food because academics are greedy bastards, apparently, and the music kind of sucked.  True, it was Liam’s playlist.  But Louis wanted to _dance_.  He wanted to let go a little and just forget how fucked up his life was.  Not listen to Travis Tritt or whatever shit Liam was so fond of.

There was beer, though.  That was good.

The real reason Louis was beginning to feel like the night was a complete bust was because Harry wasn’t there.  

Of course he wasn’t.  Why would Louis expect anything else from him?  

Louis had waltzed in expecting Harry to fall off his barstool at how _good_ he looked but, of course that plan was squashed when he entered Clancy’s and quickly realized everyone else was there _except_ Harry.   Now, two hours later, it didn’t look like Harry was going to show and Louis was nearly drunk and ready to start crying in his beer.  He sighed and slipped off his chair so that he could go behind the bar and change the music.  At least he could do something about _that_.  

Switching to his workout playlist — rife with dance tunes — Louis also dimmed the lights.  A cheer went up in the crowd and people started crowding to the back of the bar to dance.  Liam shot Louis a wary look, making Louis grin wildly.  Liam really needed to let loose.  He saw Sophia take his hand and whisper something in his ear, making Liam blush.  Then, she led him to the dance floor, draping her arms around his neck as he pulled her close.

Louis felt a bittersweet smile creep over his face.  He was happy for Liam.  He was.  He just wanted that for himself.  So much.

Carmen was by his side, without warning, giving him a silly smile and pulling him to the dance floor.  He followed, determined not to let his mood sour the evening.  

A few shots of whiskey later, Louis was finally feeling loose and a bit more carefree than he had earlier.  He had been dancing almost non-stop with Carmen and Sophia and had tried, to no avail, to get Liam to join them, the other man just shaking his head at the three of them and their antics.  

Carmen and Sophia had gone to get water at the bar and had left Louis alone.  He was in the darkest corner, dancing by himself, completely content with his eyes closed and arms in the air.  

The crowd was thick, since the dance floor wasn’t that big and it was late in the evening — everyone had consumed a great deal of alcohol and was dancing non-stop, no one paying attention to those around them, everyone happy to be in their own buzzed induced stupor.  Louis was singing along to a remix of some boyband song from the nineties and was working hard on not toppling over.  It was then that he felt strong hands on his hips and the long line of another person pressing into his back.  

“Hey,” a voice breathed out over the side of his neck and he’d recognize that slow, deep, drawling voice anywhere.

“ _Harry_.”

“Didn’t peg you for a boyband kind of guy, Lou.”  Harry’s fingers dug into the skin above the waistband of Louis’ jeans and Louis felt himself melting backward into Harry’s embrace.

Slowly, Louis started grinding backwards, the feel of Harry’s thighs pressed to the back of his legs keeping him in place.  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”  Louis was surprised at how rough his voice came out — deep and husky — clearly affected by Harry’s sudden presence.

Harry just hummed and pushed forward, rotating his hips in time to Louis’, his hands sliding lower to cover the jut of Louis’s hipbones.  His breath was hot and even on the back of Louis’ neck and his hands were holding Louis in place, guiding him so that they could mould together with each sinful grind of their hips.  “You look good tonight.”

Louis felt his breath catch as Harry’s palms pushed and pulled his hips a little more slowly, the feeling like a slow, languid fuck — unhurried, leisurely, but mounting to something quicker.   Harry’s hips were moving in time to the music, the beat loud and a little dirty.  Louis could feel the beginning edges of Harry’s erection against his bum and _fuck_.  He wanted this so badly.  He couldn’t remember ever wanting something so badly in his life.

He was surprised by Harry’s brazenness, since he was usually the one to put the brakes on any kind of anything between them.  But Louis wasn’t complaining.  The way it felt to have Harry controlling his body like this was making his skin tingle and his head reel.  Just from how Harry was moving Louis was getting the feeling that Harry liked to be in control, liked to take control.

But so did Louis.  

Turning in Harry’s arms, Louis slipped his thigh between Harry’s and slid his hands up Harry’s chest and clasped them behind his neck, Harry’s eyes were dark and wide and his hair was down and softly curling around the tops of his shoulders.  He looked dangerously close to coming unhinged, and Louis wanted to be the one to do that to him.  Harry exhaled roughly and mirrored Louis — pushing a thick thigh between Louis’ legs, hands sliding down, down, down, until they rested over the swell of his ass.  Louis made his move, tangling his fingers in Harry’s long hair, pulling at the roots with a little too much force.  Harry moaned and dropped his forehead to Louis’.  

“Yeah?” Louis murmured against Harry’s neck, moving his thigh rhythmically against Harry’s growing cock, mouthing over the sweat-salted skin at the side of his throat.  Louis grazed it with his teeth then, and pursed his lips so he could suck lightly on the tender skin, while tugging harshly on Harry’s hair.  

It had the desired effect.

Harry shivered and pulled Louis closer.  Louis could feel the way Harry’s hands were starting to lose control, the gripping of his ass becoming a little _rougher_ , a little more needy.  Harry’s cock was growing underneath his leg and Louis could smell him — smell his arousal and probably a million pheromones that were directing every one of Louis’ sordid actions.  Louis felt a fevered need licking at the base of his spine, making his mind hazy and full of thoughts about Harry’s hands, Harry’s mouth…Harry’s dick.

“So fucking good.”  Harry’s voice was so deep Louis could feel it in his bones, the richness of it settling inside of him like a heavy weight.  Harry slurred, “You feel so fucking good.  God fucking damn Louis.  Wanna…”

Louis knew they were playing a dangerous game, with all sorts of prying eyes around them. But he couldn’t care less — not in that moment, especially with everyone drunk and oblivious and in their own states of debauchery.  He wanted Harry and he was tired of waiting.  He rolled his hips against Harry’s thigh so Harry could feel how riled up he was getting.  Then he pushed his ass backward so that it filled Harry’s hands, making the other man gasp.  

Louis looked up at Harry and there was a moment.  A moment when Louis couldn’t be sure if it was the alcohol or the tension from the last several weeks building or the maddening precision of Harry’s thigh rubbing against Louis’ fully hard dick, but Louis felt something inside of him snap.  He didn’t want to recede into the background anymore.  He wasn’t content with this back and forth he and Harry had been playing with since the moment they met.  He _wanted_ Harry and he wanted him _now_. And he was pretty sure Harry wanted him too, if the way he was clinging to him and starting to desperately move against him was any indication.  

Louis played his last card.  “Sometimes, when I’m alone…” he whispered, low and raspy, into Harry’s ear, “I imagine what it would be like to feel you inside me.  To feel you fuck me, Harry.  Fuck me so hard I could feel you for days…”

 _“Fuck”_ ,  Harry growled and then they were moving, Louis’ head dizzy from the suddenness of it.  Harry grabbed Louis’ arm and marched him toward the back exit.  Louis felt a zip of red hot fire land in his groin and a thrill explode inside his head.  

 _Finally_.   

Harry pushed the exit door open, the cold air surrounding them immediately.  The door slammed shut with an air of finality that Louis hadn’t been expecting.  It was quiet outside.  Quiet and dark, the alley poorly lit — the dumpsters the only witness to Louis’ impetuousness.  

Before he could talk himself out of it, he rounded on Harry and pushed him backward toward the brick wall.  The music from inside the bar was a distant memory, blood rushing in his ears as he grabbed Harry’s face with both hands and pulled him down into a kiss.  Harry opened to him immediately and there was no room for questions any longer.  There was only heat and the wet, wet slide of their tongues and the deep sound of Harry’s groan as Louis pushed their hard cocks together through the layers of clothing.  

“Want you...” Louis moaned against Harry’s mouth when they came up for air.  He moved his lips along the sharp curve of the other man’s jaw, the scent of Harry was stronger there.  His cologne mixed with the natural scent of him was like a drug to Louis, pulling him further and further into the abyss — wanting more, needing everything Harry would give him.  Louis bit down on the tender skin under Harry’s ear and Harry swore, his deep voice ringing out into the dark cold night.  “Want your hands on me.  Wanna... _fuck_ .  Wanna touch you.  Got me so hard, Harry.”  Louis’ voice was rough and on edge, like the rest of his entire body.  He wanted.   _Needed_ , so badly.

Suddenly, Louis found himself being turned around and pressed against the wall, the rough surface scratching at his cheek, hands splayed out to the side of his head, scrabbling at the cold bricks.  “Is this what you want?”  Harry bit out, deep and gravelly, pushing his clothed cock between Louis’ cheeks, his erection thick and hard.  

Louis moaned and pushed backward.  “Y — yes.  God.   _Harry_.  Yes.”

Harry mouthed at the back of Louis’ neck, the wet trail of spit making goosebumps break out all over his body.  “You want _this_?”  Harry punctuated the sentence with a harsh thrust of his hips forward, shoving Louis — and his fully hard dick — into the wall.  

“Yes.   _Shit_ .  Yes, _Harry_ .  So bad. I’ve wanted this —” Harry pulled Louis’ hair so that his head moved to the side, exposing his neck, making Louis grunt at the pleasure-pain the movement caused.  Harry started sucking a sharp bruise at the curve of his shoulder and neck.  “Wanted this for so long, _fuck_.”  He started pushing his ass backward so that they were dry humping, the feeling frantic, frenzied, a dry heat growing between them.  

“Fuck.  Louis.  You fucking —” Harry yanked Louis’ pants down to his knees, his ass jiggling and cock slapping up against his stomach, the icy cold whipping around them, but he still felt warm, _hot_ , with Harry’s body covering him and lust burning in his bloodstream.  “You fucking don’t even know what you do to me.”

“ _Show me_ ,” Louis whined, rotating his hips, searching for friction.

Louis heard Harry unzip his own pants and spit into his hand.  He felt Harry’s wet hand close around his nearly painful dick, stripping it quick and hard — almost _too hard_ but _God_ .  It felt so good.  He could already feel his orgasm hurtling forward.  He arched his back so his ass was open and inviting to Harry and he knew he should be careful, knew they should talk about this, knew he was too drunk to be making rational decisions but _fuck_ ...he wanted Harry — wanted _this_ — so badly he couldn’t even think straight.  He wanted Harry to get off with him — to _use him_ — to do whatever he wanted to him.  Just so they could do this.  Be together.   _Finally_.

Harry’s cock slipped between his cheeks and Harry started thrusting hard and fast between them in time with the movements of his hand over Louis’ dick.  And _Christ_ .  It was _good_ .  Mind-numbingly good, his hole fluttering around the shaft of Harry’s cock, his body desperate to be filled.  Louis couldn’t stop the sounds coming out of his mouth, a string of obscenities and deep raspy moans that only seemed to spur Harry on.  Harry was breathing hot and hard in his ear and he whispered, “God you feel so fucking good Louis.  Can’t wait to — _fuck_.  Need to — make me —”  

And then Harry was coming.  Louis could feel it dripping over his ass and sliding between his cheeks, making the upward thrusts of Harry’s thick cock easier, slippery, and it felt dirty and perfect and so incredibly desperate that it pushed Louis over the edge, making him shout out and come in thick, tremulous ribbons all over Harry’s hand.  

Harry worked him through it, still riding out his own release, the wet suction noises from behind and in front of Louis making him almost hard again.  It was _filthy_ — his ass hanging out for anyone to see — anyone could see _them_.  

Harry let his dick go and ran his slick hand over Louis’ skin, under his sweater, up high so he could press his open palm over Louis’ pounding heart.  He kept himself between Louis’ cheeks and breathed over the sore spot on Louis’ neck — the spot where Harry _marked_ him.  Despite the cold, Louis felt hot, sweaty, wanton.  

Harry’s breath was evening out and Louis could feel the beginnings of a chill crawl over his skin.  Harry sighed and pulled away, releasing Louis and Louis felt unmoored.   _Reeling_.  He turned, pressing his back to the wall and pulled up his pants, tucking himself in gently.  Harry was doing the same, looking everywhere but at Louis.  

Louis bit his lip and watched Harry — feeling like they were miles apart when only moments before they were closer than two people could possibly be.  A tidal wave of sadness washed over him.  Sadness and a roaring kind of rage that Harry was doing this again.  Pushing him away.  

Harry looked at him, finally, and his mouth turned down as he spoke, “This shouldn’t have happened, Lou.”

Louis felt his stomach twist as his eyes bore into Harry’s.  Harry shifted away from him even further and he pushed his hair off of his face.  Louis wrapped his arms around himself feeling the familiar feeling of self-doubt creep into his fuzzy brain — the alcohol wearing off quickly now.  “Why?” he demanded, anger warring with the comfort of pain inside him.

Harry opened his mouth and started to say something when the door flew open, revealing a flushed Liam.  “There you are!” He shouted, bringing with him loud dance music and laughter.

Louis’ eyes didn’t leave Harry’s until Harry broke their gaze by looking down at the ground.  “Harry!  You made it.  Lou?”

Louis looked over at his friend wanting to be anywhere but there in that moment, the feeling of come drying in his pants and under his sweater, his body shivering with how cold he was.  Liam didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.  “Gonna cut the cake — are you guys coming?”

Louis wanted to laugh and bark out an inappropriate joke about how they already had but he couldn’t.  Because all he felt was melancholy over the fact that the two of them were on this seemingly never-ending loop of being drawn together then pushing apart — all at the fickle whim of Harry and his ever changing mood.  

“Yeah,” Louis sighed, pushing off the wall, not wanting to dampen his friend’s evening, “I’m coming.”

Harry scuffed his boot along the pavement.  “Sorry, I — I have to go Liam.  But congratulations, yeah?”

Liam held the door for Louis and Louis looked over his shoulder at Harry once before walking back inside.  Harry looked for a moment like he wanted to say something but then the moment was gone.  And so was Harry.

Again.


	5. Chapter 5

Dust flew through the air, making Louis cough violently.  It felt a little bit like an exorcism, cleaning the apartment like that.  It sort of was.  Louis was a stress cleaner.  A stress eater.  A stress drinker.  Today he was only doing one of those things — and that was cleaning.  And it wasn’t doing much to improve his mood.

Since Friday night, he’d been vacillating between an all consuming rage and a debilitating sadness.  All because of Harry fucking Styles.  All day Saturday Louis had lain on the couch watching bad t.v. and eating even worse food.  He drank an entire box of wine and ended up crying all over Liam after Louis, embarrassingly, crawled in bed with him and Sophia that night.

Which.  Anyone that knew Liam knew his bedroom was off limits.  Liam was a very private person.  Especially where his bedroom was concerned. Louis was fairly certain he was hiding all kinds of whips and chains in there.  Mild mannered English professor by day — BDSM aficionado by night.

Louis hadn’t cared about crossing the no-fly zone of Liam’s bedroom.  He had whined about how _fucking_ unfair it was that Harry was always disappearing on him and how _fucking_ unfair it was that no one would ever love him and how _fucking_ unfair it was that Martin Sheen couldn’t be president like on the West Wing.  Liam just patted his head and finally ushered him to his own bed where he passed out cold and woke up the next day feeling a lot less sad and a lot more angry.

Which was why he was currently punishing the couch cushions.  

“Lou!”  

Louis coughed into his arm and turned around to see Liam and Sophia standing in the doorway, looking alarmingly, well... _alarmed_.  

“What?” He said, turning back to his beating of the very bad cushions.

“You ok there buddy?”  Liam said from behind him.

“Fine.  Why?”  Louis fluffed the throw pillows and then grabbed the polishing spray and dust rag, spraying the coffee table liberally.  He coughed again.  

“Well…” Liam drawled, “You’re, um...cleaning.”

“So what?”  Louis felt sweat trickling down the line of his back as he pushed his hair out of his face.  He’s fine.   _Fine_ , he thought, although...he really wasn’t.  Not since Harry walked into his classroom and made a complete mess of his life.  Liam knew he wasn’t fine.  Liam was the neat one in their relationship — he was so freaky about his things and about everything having its place.  He got his panties in a twist over something as simple as Louis leaving a cereal bowl out — which he did all the time.  Maybe even on purpose.

“Right.  Well…”  Liam was looking a little twitchy.  He usually did all the cleaning.  He was excessively anal about where things went and what products were best for dusting and exactly how the pillow cushions were supposed to be arranged.  

It was _exhausting_ .  Which was why Louis just let him do it all of the time.  They _both_ preferred it that way.  But.  He needed an outlet.  Eating and drinking hadn't worked...so here he was.

Louis turned around and stared at them, dropping the dust rag as he gestured at them.  “What Liam?  If you have something to say, just say it.”  He felt so fucking tired — tired of being the person people constantly worried about.  Tired over not having his shit together and _making_ Liam look at him like that — full of pity.

Sophia cleared her throat and gave him a gentle smile.  “We’re just worried about you, Lou.”

“Well don’t be,” he snapped, turning back to his cleaning, this time reaching for the vacuum.  

Liam stepped backward toward the door, pulling Sophia with him.  “Well, then.  We’re off, Louis,” he said, to Louis’ back.  

Louis gave them a half-hearted wave over his shoulder as the vacuum roared to life.  It was only about five minutes later when guilt took over and he collapsed on the couch, pulling out his phone to text Liam:   _sorry man.  love you guys--have a great trip.  congratulations._

Liam responded with a smiley face.  Louis knew Liam was just looking out for him.  But still...it was hard not to be a little bitter when your best friend was off marrying the love of his life and you’re sitting on your sofa, _stuck_ somewhere between living and squandering your existence.  

Louis buried his head in the couch and didn’t move for the rest of the day.

****

Louis wasn’t surprised when Harry didn’t show up to work all week.  He wasn’t surprised _at all_ .  There was a pattern with Harry and his yo-yo response to Louis and it was making Louis absolutely _seethe_.  It was one thing to kiss him and then freak out.  He could even forgive the episode in the alley.  Almost.  But Harry had agreed to do a job.  A job that Louis had stuck his neck out to get him and now he wasn’t even able to follow through with that.

Louis dropped his phone to his desk, for the third time, debating whether or not to text Harry.  He wanted to give him an ultimatum.  But he was also worried about him.  There was a reason why Harry kept pushing him away and a piece of him wanted to help Harry figure out how to get over it — how to get over _himself_ , because it was clear to Louis they could be happy together.  If Harry would just let them.  

Louis exhaled and took a bite of his apple.  He picked up his phone again and rolled it between his fingers.  It had been an entire week.  An entire week of silence.  It wasn’t like Harry hadn’t disappeared before.  It was just...this time felt different.  It felt more personal.  

The sex they’d had was so...hurried.  Impersonal.   _Hot_.  But full of regret — not because Louis didn’t want it, more because of how Harry had acted afterward.

Louis felt his tummy flip just thinking about it.  But it wasn’t exactly what he’d thought their first time would be like.  And, yes, he’d definitely spared more than a few thoughts imagining what it would be like to have sex with Harry.  He couldn't see Harry’s eyes.  Couldn’t see how Harry looked when he fell apart.  Couldn’t kiss him or touch him properly.

It felt like scratching an itch only to have it itch even more than ever.  It was _maddening_.  

His phone rang, startling him out of his daydream.  He could see that it was an internal call — N. Grimshaw.  He swallowed thickly, contemplating ignoring it but knowing he couldn’t ignore it for long.  

“Hello, this is Dr. Tomlinson.”

“Louis!  How are you?”  the dean’s voice was bright and overly enthusiastic.

Louis bit the inside of his cheek, drawing his mouth into a firm line.  He had very little tolerance for fake niceties.   “Good.  You?”

“Good.  Good.  Listen.  I’ll get right to it.”

“Please.”  Louis didn’t mean to sound rude, but he had a headache and couldn’t stop thinking about Harry and the last thing he wanted to deal with was his bizarro dean.  

Nick chuckled far too robustly for the comment before he said, “Right.  I’d like to see the spreadsheets you are keeping track of your data on.”

“Wha — _what_?”  Louis was incredulous.  Something was really off with this guy.  

“Yes.  I’d like to see them as soon as possible.  I’m particularly interested in what you’ve been working on lately um...the document entitled...let’s see…”  Louis could hear papers rustling on the other end.  “Pres underscore elec underscore 17?”

Louis felt his mouth drop open.  What even?  “How...how do you know the name of my spreadsheet?”

Dr. Grimshaw laughed again, the sound tinny and forced.  “Oh, Louis.  Humor me, will you.  Just email the document by the end of the day.”

When Louis didn’t say anything, mostly because he was stunned, Grimshaw continued, “Have your grad assistant do it...Harry, right?”

Louis thought for a moment.  “It’s not a question of me not being able to do it.  With all due respect, sir, I just…”

The dean cut him off, “How’s Harry working out, by the way?”

And, what?  Why would the dean want to know how Louis’ grad assistant was working out? What did he know? Louis barely had time to sputter, “F — fine.  He’s fine.”

Talking over Louis, Grimshaw said gruffly, “Good, good.  He's quite a charmer, that one.”  He paused and in the silence Louis could imagine that oddly penetrating stare of his while Louis attempted to not turn seven shades of red, before continuing, “Alright then Louis.  I’ll look for your email.”  He disconnected with a loud click.

Louis stared down at the phone in his hand and shook his head in disbelief.  Scratching his head, Louis wondered if the dean had any right to request such sensitive information, especially before Louis had had a chance to even decipher and fully formulate the data yet.  It was _unheard_ of. Also, the fact that Grimshaw had more or less demanded it really annoyed Louis, not to mention his questioning about Harry.   _Quite the charmer_. What was he getting at?  What did he know?  Louis’ stomach was in knots over it as he stared at the phone in its cradle.  One thing was for sure, he was going to stall for a bit while he figured out if he was going to send the document or not.  

Louis glanced at his cell phone, noting that there were no missed messages, and saw that it was nearly 5:00.  He had a standing Friday night monthly dinner date with several other area math professors, some of whom had cross-over interests in social sciences, like himself.  It was always a good time — if not a bit reserved.  He packed up his desk and took one last glance around the room.  He felt a twinge of regret as he looked at Harry’s work table in the corner, the laptop closed and the papers neatly stacked in vertical file folders.  Not a thing out of place.  

So unlike Harry himself.  

****

“Good luck, man.  With everything.”  Louis shook one of the math teacher’s hands as they bid each other good night.  His friend was moving to Montana since he’d accepted a job at another University.  Better pay.  Prettier scenery.  

As Louis had spent the night talking with his colleagues, he was struck by how many of them seemed to have movement in their lives.  They were all doing something or going somewhere, while Louis felt stuck.  Stuck in his mid-level job, stuck in his non-existent love life.  Stuck, stuck, stuck. 

“Shit!” He muttered to himself as he realized he’d left his messenger bag up in his office.  He’d left in such a fog, thinking over Grimshaw’s request and Harry’s absence that he had just grabbed his coat and phone, leaving his bag inside his desk drawer.  Fuck.  He’d have to go back for it.  His apartment keys were in it and he needed his laptop and files for the weekend.  

He trudged back the two blocks to get to his building and took the elevator up to his office.  It was past nine at night and the building was deserted.  When Louis first joined the faculty he used to work late into the night most evenings — sometimes even on weekends.  Now, he tried to leave by five every night or right after an evening class ended.  Tenure or not, endless nights of ‘round the clock hours wasn’t a lifestyle that could be sustained.

Still...there was something so satisfying about working late at night in a desolate building, no noise or people to distract you…

Louis stopped dead in his tracks.  His office door was closed but there was a light on, pale amber leaking through the crack at the bottom, creating a pool of incandescent warmth over the worn carpet.  He didn’t — he didn’t leave a light on.  He was sure of it.  He had been careful to turn everything off and lock the door.  

He glanced around the cubicles lining the hallway and saw a large umbrella in the one nearest to him.  Without thinking, he grabbed it and hoisted it above his shoulders like a baseball bat.  As a weapon, it wasn’t very impressive, but it would have to do.  

He crept toward his office, seeing a shadow flit through the light.  Fuck.  He should probably call building security, but he was intrigued.  Who would break into a math professor’s office?  The only person he could think of was...the dean.  He hadn’t emailed his spreadsheets to him and really, he wasn’t planning on doing it.  Maybe he — shit, maybe the dean had decided to get them for himself.

Louis was puzzling over why Grimshaw would break into his office when he obviously had access to the files electronically, when he reached his door.  Silently, he grasped the knob, drawing in a deep, shuddery breath, nerves jangling under his skin.  Slowly, very slowly, he turned the knob, at the last second shoving it open violently, jumping into the room and yelling “A-ha!”

Before he knew what was happening the door was slammed shut and his body was hitting the back of it with brutal force.  There was a tight vice pressed up against his windpipe and he struggled to breathe.  His eyes were pinched shut from the force of the blow until his brain caught up with his body and they flew open and he was face to face with…

“ _Harry_?”  He squeaked, voice a reedy thin whisper, the pressure against his neck starting to make the edges of his vision darken.

Then...he was on the floor, gasping for breath, on all fours, fighting the urge to vomit.

“Fuck!  Lou!”  Harry dropped to the ground in front of Louis and hauled him up so he could look at him.  Harry’s eyes wildly scanned Louis’ face as his hands pressed over the tender skin of Louis’ throat.  “Fuck, I’m so... _fuck_.”

“What — what were you doing?   _Why_?”  Louis was genuinely confused.  His head hurt and he idly thought he must have hit it when Harry threw him to the door.

Harry dropped backward, against the desk, legs sprawled, breath coming fast.  Louis rubbed his throat and stared at him.  What the fuck just happened?  Lovely, kind, and gentle Harry had just...thrown him around like he weighed nothing and his eyes — fuck, his eyes had looked dark and _menacing_.

He hadn’t looked like Harry at all.  He’d looked like a stranger.  A _frightening_ stranger.

“Louis I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered.  

Louis nodded and backed away, sliding across the floor on his ass til his back hit the door.  He was still clutching his neck and he didn’t think his heart would stop thundering inside his chest anytime soon.  “What the fuck are you doing here Harry?”

“I — I…”  Harry exhaled and bit his lip, his brow furrowed in that deep crease Louis had come to think of as his pensive expression.  Harry put his hands up in a show of benign hesitance.  Louis gave him a short nod and watched as he stood up in one fluid movement.  Fuck.  His thighs were obscene as they bulged under the thin stretch of his jeans.  He reached down with one hand, offering to help Louis up.

Louis reluctantly accepted the offer, still not entirely sure what Harry was doing there, in his office, so late at night.

As their hands slid together, Louis felt a charge pass through him.  Electricity shot from Harry’s hand, straight up his arm and down through his body. Right to his dick.

“Harry — “

Harry held fast to Louis’ hand and pulled him closer.  “What are you doing here so late, Lou?”

Louis stared up into Harry’s eyes and he _forgot_.  He forgot why he was there so late.  He forgot why he had been terrified of Harry just moments before.  He forgot why he was so angry with Harry for fucking off all week.  He felt the heat of Harry’s body and saw the way Harry was looking at him and he just...wanted.

In a complete moment of déjà vu, Louis felt himself crashing into Harry’s body, the two of them colliding, hard muscle against soft flesh, against fevered skin and desperate hands.  Harry’s mouth was moving against his and he heard himself moan, disbelief screaming at him from inside his shell-shocked brain.  But he was helpless to it...to Harry.

Harry was frantic, his hands clutching at Louis’ ass, hoisting him up and spinning him so that he could drop him on top of the desk.  Louis wrapped his legs around the other man’s waist and yanked at his long hair — hard.  Harry groaned into Louis’ open mouth, the moment frozen as they breathed each other in.  As they pulled apart, Louis opened his eyes and found Harry’s eyes boring into his.  

“Lou — I can’t do this anymore.”  Louis braced himself for another rejection, for Harry to push him away, leaving him confused and heart-weary once more.  

Louis was just about to push Harry away, words forming on his tongue to tell Harry off when Harry dove back in, claiming his mouth and rolling his tongue inside with more force than before.  Louis was surprised, but recovered quickly, kissing Harry back, tasting peppermint and maybe whiskey and the heat of all the hours, weeks, months of unrequited lust.

“H — Harry!”  Louis gasped and pulled away, head falling backward as Harry’s hand dropped to his crotch and his fingers found the outline of his quickly filling cock.  He garbled out a weak moan and Harry took the opportunity to mouth up the line of his neck.

“Can’t stay away any longer.   _Fucking hell._  Louis.   _God_.”  Louis could feel Harry’s teeth against his pulse point and he felt a sudden, irrational stab of fear.  Shit.  Maybe Harry was a vampire.

The moment was gone, though, when Harry’s lips were back on his and his palm was grinding down on Louis’ cock with maddening precision.  “Jesus Christ, _Harry_.”  

Louis was going to come in his pants.  He was going to come in his pants on top of his desk like a goddamn teenager and he couldn’t care less.  Harry pulled away and looked at Louis like he wanted to consume him — eat him whole.  “Fuck.  We can’t — not here.”

Louis felt dizzy, his lips slick from Harry’s mouth and his cock throbbing under the weight of Harry’s hand.  “Wh — what?”

“Can we go to your place?”  Harry’s voice was deep and throaty and his hair was a wild tangle in Louis’ hands.  Louis found himself nodding, mesmerized by the sound of Harry’s voice in his ear and the hard line of Harry’s body against his.  

Harry pulled him off the desk, pausing to kiss Louis again, this time softer, sweeter, more like...Harry.  Louis’ head was swimming with the ebb and flow of Harry and his seemingly multiple personalities.  He could barely keep up.  It felt like whenever he was near Harry like this Louis was incapable of rational thought.  

Harry led him toward the door and stopped short, turning to smile sheepishly at Louis.  “Don’t forget your bag.”

“My…”  Louis looked to where Harry was pointing, and, sure enough.  There was Louis’ bag on the floor next to his desk.  He squinted at Harry and was about to question him why it was there when — he was sure he had left it _inside_ his desk drawer— when Harry started kissing him again.  

Louis melted into it, the feeling of Harry everywhere, pulling him under.  Harry pulled away first and pressed their foreheads together.  His eyes looked troubled.  “What is it?”

“I have to...um...we have to talk.  Before.”

Louis bit his lip and nodded, knowing Harry was right.  Knowing he needed to hear what Harry had to say — despite his misgivings about it.  And his poor cock’s misgivings about it.

“Yeah.  Yeah, alright.”

“Ok.”  Harry breathed out, pushing Louis’ hair off his forehead gently.  “Just — “

He walked to the door, opening it and standing to the side to let Louis go through.  “Just stay on your side of the car, yeah?”

Louis hid a smirk in his shoulder and pushed past him.  He let his hand drag over Harry’s abdomen, chuckling when he felt the ridge of muscles go tense under his fingers.  “Yeah.  Ok.”

Harry groaned and followed Louis out into the night.

****

The cab ride to Louis’ apartment was quiet.  Louis kept to his side and Harry seemed thankful for the exceptionally spacious back seat of the worn out Impala they were being driven in.  The space gave Louis a chance to clear his head.  

He found himself thinking about why Harry was in his office, late at night, after being MIA for a week. He ran his fingertips over the sore muscle at the base of his throat, remembering the way Harry had pinned him to the door, with that _look_ in his eyes.  He glanced over at Harry only to find him already staring, eyes intense as the street lights flashed ghostly shadows over his face.  

“You ok?”  Harry’s voice was concerned, but calm, controlled.  It made Louis shiver, despite the stifling heat in the back of the cab.

“Yeah.  I’m — yeah.”  He didn’t really want to get into it in the car, not with the driver listening and his emotions feeling suddenly fragile and so close to the surface. He was also pretty sure that he _wasn’t_ ok.  The urgency from his office had begun to wear off, and now, with a little separation from Harry’s hands, mouth, and the hot press of his body, Louis found he could think more clearly.

And he was scared.

“Right up here,” Harry stated, reaching into his jeans for some cash.

All Louis could do was watch and swallow thickly as he thought about the fact that he and Harry were going into his apartment together.  Alone.  

For the first time since meeting Harry, being alone with him was not necessarily the main objective.

Harry trailed behind him, clearing his throat as they crossed the threshold to Louis’ apartment.  Louis turned to him, saying, “Can I take your coat?”

“Yeah.  Um...thanks.”  At least Harry sounded as nervous as Louis felt.  

Harry’s green eyes flashed under the pale hall light and Louis felt, for a moment, an incredible urge to just kiss him — forget about the talking, forget about the uneasiness...just — figure it out later.  Just kiss him and get lost in the feel of him, feel the way his lips give underneath the press of Louis’ own...just forget.

Harry cleared his throat again.  “Can we, like, sit down somewhere.”

Louis was staring.  Creepy.  “Yeah.  Yeah, of course.  Do you want a drink?  Glass of wine?  Some tea?”

“Tea would be good.”

Louis walked to the kitchen, and Harry excused himself to the bathroom, Louis pointing the way down the hallway.  A few moments went by as Louis busied himself in the kitchen.  He was just about to go to check on Harry when he turned and found him right behind him.  “Oh!  You — you scared me.”

“Sorry,”  Harry whispered, eyes moving rapidly around the kitchen.  He walked to the window and felt around in the corners, reaching up to each side along the top, his shirt riding up over his torso.  Louis looked away, swallowing thickly as he tried to think pure thoughts.  

“Are you cold?”  Louis wondered, watching Harry scrutinize his windows, as he bobbed the teabags inside their cups, hot water sloshing against the concave ceramic sides of the mugs.  

“What?  Um…”  Harry slid into one of the chairs at the bistro set, hands roaming the underside of the table.  “No,” he said absently.

Strange.  Harry was a strange, strange man.  Louis couldn’t look away.  

“Tea’s ready,” he murmured.  

“Yeah.  Good.”  Harry stood from his chair and stared up at the recessed light in the center of the kitchen ceiling, almost like he was looking for something.  

“Something wrong?”

“No.  No!”  Harry’s voice got louder and he glanced at his watch.  His brows were furrowed and he finally looked back at Louis.  “Can we sit in the living room?”

“Yeah?”  Louis didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but it did.  Because, even by Harry standards, this was odd behavior.

They went to the living room, each of them settling on the couch, Louis on one end and Harry on the opposite.  There was about two feet between them but it might as well have been a mile.  Louis felt his heart beat erratically in his chest and he started to bob his knee up and down rapidly.  He felt fidgety, uneasy.  

Harry looked...agitated, despite his calm face and steady hands, his eyes were shifting about nervously, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“You ok, H.?”

“Yeah, I’m just.  Trying to think of how to tell you this.”

Louis’ stomach plummeted.  He braced himself for whatever was going to come next.  He had a feeling it wouldn’t be pleasant — based on how Harry was twisting his fingers in his lap and gnawing on his full bottom lip.  Louis had a fleeting thought about how glad he was that he had his big cleaning fit the other day, at least he wasn’t embarrassed about dirty socks and sticky cereal bowls.  What was he doing thinking about cleaning?  Harry was about to tell him whatever massive secret he’d been keeping, and Louis was thinking about nasty socks?

If Louis was anxious, Harry was positively overwrought.  His face was pale, the only color a faint pink smudge across the apple of his cheeks — probably residual from the biting cold air outside.  His eyes were downcast and Louis saw him inhale deeply before he looked up.  Louis was caught in his stare for a moment, feeling the inescapable pull of him, and it made him feel dizzy and confused.  For probably the millionth time, though, he felt _arrested_ by how pretty Harry was.  Even now, looking like he might faint at any moment.

Shit.  Whatever he was about to tell Louis had to be _big_.  Otherwise he would have blurted it out by now.  

Louis’ mind was racing and he was convinced Harry had a secret family hidden away or something, or he was some kind of supernatural being.  There had to be an _awesome_ excuse for how weird he was acting.  Whatever it was, Louis knew it was going to change the way they saw each other from this moment on.

“I’m a spy.”

And, _what_?

“What?”

“I’m a spy,” Harry said again, “Actually...um...I’m a class five NSA Agent, but.  Yeah.  I’m a spy.”  

Louis stared at him for a moment, the look in Harry’s eyes reminding Louis of the proverbial deer caught in headlights.  And then, then, Louis just laughed.  He laughed, loud and hard, doubling over in his seat, the fear and trepidation spilling out of him with each heaving breath.  Leave it to Harry to lighten the moment with a joke — crafty, he was.  

“Wh — what?  I thought...I thought you just said y — you’re a…”  he struggled to catch his breath, before finishing, “I thought you said you were a spy?”

“I did.”

Harry was still staring at him.  No smile.  Not even a slight crinkle of the eyes.  Almost as if he were...serious.

“What?”  Louis felt the laughter die in his throat as he struggled to make sense of what Harry was saying — why he was looking at him like that.

“I. Am.  A.  Spy.”  Harry paused between each word, almost as if he were willing each syllable to settle into Louis’ brain — heavy and purposeful.

“Fuck you.”

The silence between them was deep and laden with Harry’s insistence, a poison threatening to seep into Louis’ bloodstream.  Louis looked at Harry for a beat and saw the way his eyes were pleading at Louis.  

He wasn’t kidding.  At all.

“Fuck you,” Louis said again and got up abruptly from the couch, spilling his tea in the process.  “Fuck!  Shit!”  The hot liquid scalded him through his khakis.  “ _Fuck_.”

Harry was in front of him in an instant.  “Are you — are you ok?  Louis?”

Louis stopped pulling at his pants.  “What the fuck Harry?  A — a spy?”

Harry’s face flushed and his eyes bore into Louis’.  “Yes.  Yeah.  I’m — yeah.”

“Harry.  Look.  If you don’t want to date me, that’s fine.  If you want to ‘let me down easy’” he put up air quotes, “that’s fine too.  Just.  Don’t fuck me around like this.”  He spit the words out, unable to hide his anger.

“Louis.  Fuck.  No.  That’s — that’s not what I’m doing.”   Harry grabbed Louis’ hands away from his wet pants, pulling them up toward their faces, holding them at his heartline.  “Louis.  Look at me.”

Louis sighed heavily and looked up at him.  Harry’s deep green eyes were earnest as he whispered, “I’m a spy, Louis.  I’m a spy with the National Security Agency — the NSA.  I’m undercover — well, I mean.  I had been until...now.”

Louis couldn’t formulate words.   _A spy_ .   _NSA_?  Harry expected him to believe that he was an actual real live spy.  “Honestly?  Harry.  You could have come up with something better than that.”  He wrenched himself away from Harry and his big, strong, warm hands, that were squeezing his own so tight his fingers were going white.  He started down the hall.  “Fuck you,” he threw over his shoulder.

“Louis!”  Harry followed him.  Of course he did.  “I’m not — I swear to God, I’m telling you the truth.”  

Louis stalked into his bedroom, already yanking off his stained pants, leaving himself in his sweater and boxer briefs.  He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a pair of worn joggers, intent on putting them on and then kicking Harry Styles right out of his apartment — and his life.  He tossed the khakis toward the hamper in the corner of the room and looked up to find Harry standing in the doorway, eyes bulging as he stared at Louis’... _ass_.

Well.  That was…

“Hello?”  Louis meant to sound condescending, frigid.  Instead, he sounded breathless and... _aroused_.  Shit.  

“S — sorry.  I just…”

“You just what Harry?  Just what?”  Louis demanded, voice going high and nearly manic, and crap.  That wasn’t right either.  Control.  He needed _control_.  He angled away from Harry, hopeful he hadn’t seen the way his dick twitched under the attention.

“It’s just that you like...you have a — “

“What?”  Louis barked.  Finally.  Louis sounded in control.  Barely.  

“You have a really nice ass,”  Harry whispered.

Louis stared at Harry.  Harry stared at Louis.

 _Fuck_.

“You know what?”  Louis croaked, searching for words — _demeaning_ words.  Words that would show Harry who was boss.  Words that wouldn’t betray the way his body — specifically, his _cock_ — was taking notice of Harry’s compliment.  

“ _What_?”  Harry whispered.  Again with the whispers.  Whispering shouldn’t be this hot, Louis thought.    

Louis sighed and ran a hand through his hair, feeling it flop right back into his eyes.  “Just.  I think you should leave.”  Louis dropped his chin to his chest, not wanting to see the look on Harry’s face as he processed what Louis just said.

“No.”

Louis’ head snapped up and he looked at Harry.  No?  “No?  What do you mean no?”  And there went his voice again, high and a bit shrill.

“I...um.  I can’t.”  At least Harry had the decency to look embarrassed over his blatant disregard for Louis’ wishes.

“What do you mean you can’t?”  Louis walked toward him, hoping there was a challenge in his eyes.  

Harry backed out of the doorway, biting down on his lip.  “Um.  I need to like...protect you?”

Louis squinted his eyes and cocked his head.  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Harry took a deep breath.  “Just.  We have reason to believe your life might be in danger.”

Louis balked at that, “Wh — what?  What the fuck are you talking about Harry?”

“Can we sit back down, please?  I need to tell you...tell you everything.”  Harry was pleading with him and Louis could barely see anything but red.

Louis felt his blood boiling.  He just wanted to be alone.  He still wanted to fuck Harry, too, but that was beside the point — the way Harry smelled and looked and sounded was just a biological trap, is what it was.  And Louis’ body was all for entrapment.  “Fine.  You have fifteen minutes.  After that you leave.  If you don’t I’m calling the cops.”

Harry huffed out a breath.  Louis wanted to slap him.  How dare he look so indignant?  “Fine,” Harry finally said, sweeping an arm out to the side for Louis to get past him.  

“Fine.”  Louis said, if only to get the last word.  He walked brusquely to the living room, fairly certain Harry’s eyes were on his ass.  He might have swayed his hips a little more at that.  Just a little.

They settled back on the sofa, Louis glad that the majority of the tea appeared to have landed on his legs and not the furniture or the carpet. “Alright.   _Spy_.  Get on with it.”  Louis waved his hand in the air, trying, again, to go for a tone he seemed incapable of mastering in front of Harry.

Harry huffed out a breath.  “I need you to try to take this seriously, Louis.”

Louis gawked at him.  “What?  Seriously?”

“Yes.  I know — I know that it’s hard to believe, but I really, really need you to try to listen,” Harry sighed, “and take this seriously.”

Louis rolled his eyes.  “Fine.”

Harry took a deep breath and opened his mouth to talk.  “Right.  So.  The first thing I need you to know is that none of what I’m about to tell you has any bearing on my feelings for you.  I — I really like you Louis.  I like you for who you are.  Not for...well, for anything else.”

Louis pursed his lips.  He felt his heart warring with his brain, because he really _believed_ Harry was telling the truth — that he did like, _like_ Louis — that much was evident by his actions.  The kissing, the touching, the lingering looks...but the way he’d been pushing Louis away?  Confusing.

“Right.  Ok.  What else?”  Louis was impatient to get this over with — just rip the bandaid off, listen to Harry’s lies and then kick him out.  

Harry leaned forward, looking at Louis sharply.  “We have reason to believe that there is a rogue group of Russian cyber terrorists who have hacked into your research files.  With the intent to alter the presidential election.”

“Wh — what?  Are you — what the fuck _Harry_?”  Louis wanted to jump up again, but he knew Harry would just follow him.

“I told you to take this seriously, Lou.  This _is_ serious.  Like — alter the course of history serious.”

Louis felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, and somehow, somehow he knew Harry wasn’t yanking his chain.  He knew... _was positive_ somehow that Harry wasn’t joking.  “How?”

“How?”

Louis nodded his head and met Harry’s gaze.  He felt the need to verify what his gut was telling him — that Harry was being truthful.  “How?”

“How do we know or how did they do it?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I know _how_ they did it.  You said that I was hacked.  My passwords are tight but anyone who really wanted to get in, could.”  Louis felt something tickling at the back of his consciousness, but he couldn’t discern what it was in the middle of trying to figure out for sure if Harry was going to be able to adequately explain himself.  “I want to know how they used my research to affect the... _presidential_ election.”  He couldn’t help the scoff that erupted from the back of his throat as he finished speaking.  Ludicrous.  But still...he sat back and folded his arms over his chest, waiting.  

Harry scratched his head and continued to look at Louis, unperturbed.  “Well, we think that they took your rudimentary formulas and...escalated them.  Then they applied them to random voting districts where electronic voting was enabled.  That way they could skew the results, but not so much that they would appear suspect.”

Louis dragged a deep lungful of air in through his mouth, suppressing the rage that was escalating beneath his skin.  “R — rudimentary?  My formulas are _rudimentary_?”

“Oh my God.  No!  Louis, no.  Not to me.  Shit, I think you’re brilliant.  Honestly, like the smartest civilian I’ve ever met.  With proper training you could even be — “

“Proper training?”  Louis couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “Civilian?”

Harry put his hands up in a defensive gesture.  “Lou.  Honestly.  I’m such a fan of your work.  I — I chose you.  I mean.  Out of all the mathematicians and social scientists we had to choose from, I chose _you_.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Harry?  You just said that the Russians hacked me.   _They_ hacked _me_.  So, why would you choose me?  What for?”

“Shit, yeah.  Um...so we didn’t know that it was you. That they’d gotten their formulas from.  I, um...I discovered that only after I started working for you.”

The wheels in Louis’ brain were spinning.  Harry — he _chose_ Louis?  What did he mean...after he started working for him?  “Wait.  Are you saying — are you saying you chose me to...to, what?  Spy on me?”

Harry looked down, cheeks reddened and lips twisted into a slight grimace.  “Yeah.  Um.  That was the original mission.”

Louis heard the refrigerator humming from the kitchen and he could hear a truck rumbling down Clark Street at his corner.  Life was rolling along all around him and...Harry just admitted that Louis was a...a _mission_.  

Quietly, barely a whisper, Louis said, “You...you kissed me.  You — you, I mean we...we practically had sex last weekend.  Oh my _God_.”

His feet started moving before he was even aware of it.  He bolted down the hallway into the bathroom throwing the door closed behind him, locking it.  He was in front of the toilet in a millisecond, emptying the contents of his stomach violently.  He could hear Harry knocking on the door and he groaned.  “Leave me the fuck alone Harry,” he moaned into the toilet.

“God.  Louis — I.   _Please_.  Just.  I never meant to hurt you.”

“Too late,” Louis whispered against his sleeve as he wiped his mouth.  He flopped back against the cool tile wall, taking a deep breath, his head spinning and his stomach agitated.  He could hear Harry breathing from the other side of the door.  Fuck.  When did his life get so complicated?  

A lying, cheating, married ex-boyfriend seemed like a walk in the park compared to this.


	6. Chapter 6

Hot water sluiced off of Louis’ back and he ducked his head under the stream of the shower spray.  He had climbed in the shower after he was sure he wasn’t going to be sick anymore, his stomach still protesting, but he needed to clean up and clear his mind.  He had asked Harry to leave, and, of course, Harry said no, saying that he needed to “protect him”, whatever the fuck that meant.  So, Louis had asked him to protect him from the living room, so he could at least have the semblance of being alone. 

The scent of sandalwood filled his senses and he sighed softly under the water.  He usually took long, hot showers when he needed to work out a problem, or was feeling particularly stuck on a formula or a tricky bit of research.  The water was relaxing his tight, sore muscles, but not doing much for his overworked brain.

Harry was a spy.  

Harry.  Was a...spy.  

Louis couldn’t really grasp it.  How was it that the sweet, gangly legged, long haired, lovely boy in the other room a spy?  Louis’ only association with spies was from the World War II movies he’d watched with his grandfather as a kid.  Harry definitely did not look like one of those spies.  

Louis sunk down to the floor of the tub, intending to stay put until the water ran cold.  Harry had said his feelings for Louis were genuine, yet...how could Louis believe him when in the next breath he had said that he had chosen Louis as his what?  His mark?  His cover?  What?  

One thing was for sure, Louis still had questions and Harry, by God, had better have the right answers.

Inevitably, the water chilled, so Louis slowly turned it off, stepping gingerly out of the tub on to the plush pink bath mat Sophia had insisted on buying and making them use.  Louis had to admit, it was nice to feel the fluffy material between his toes as opposed to one of his ratty t-shirts that was usually laying on the floor in the bathroom.  He glanced at the mirror, swiping off the condensation, and was alarmed to see how pale and drawn his face was.  Shit.  Finding out your grad assistant/love interest was a spy really took its toll on a guy.  

He sighed and reached for his tooth brush, cleaning his teeth again, making sure he didn’t smell like sick any longer.  “Harry?”  he called out, through the cracked bathroom door.

“Yeah?”  Harry replied, rising from the couch.

“Stay — um, stay there.  I have to walk to my room to get some clothes,” Louis said, pulling his towel tighter.  

“Yeah ok.  I’ll make some more tea, ok?”

“None for me.”  The last thing Louis wanted was anything in his stomach. 

Quickly, Louis pulled on an old baseball tee and a pair of flannel pajama pants.  He ran his fingers through his damp hair and took a deep breath.  He was feeling a little better, stronger, and was determined to hear the rest of Harry’s story.

“You ok?”  Harry said softly, handing Louis a bottle of water.  Louis accepted it with a small smile.

“Yeah.  Um.  Sorry about that.”

“Are you kidding me?  Louis.  You have every right to be angry.  Or sick.  Or whatever.  I’ve been lying to you.  And it’s been eating me up inside.”

Louis’ jerked his head up to look Harry in the face.  Harry’s eyes were watery and his bottom lip was trembling.  Louis felt something inside of him break apart, the pain raw and pleading, like stitches tearing open, the wound bleeding anew.  “Harry,” he whispered.  

He couldn’t forgive him, didn’t know if he ever could.  But he wanted to.  God did he want to.  

“I just.  I want you to try to, like, understand what happened.”

“Tell me.”

Harry pulled at his bottom lip between two fingers and knit his brows together.  “Right.  So.  When my director gave me the assignment, I was coming off administrative leave.”

Louis’ felt his eyebrows shoot up and he watched Harry’s foot start to jiggle.  He was nervous.  

“Um...the previous case I’d been on, it um...ended badly.”  He looked at Louis and something in his eyes made Louis keep quiet.  “Anyway, so the director explained the case as an undercover assignment with one of the leading researchers in voter fraud.”

“But I’m not —”

“I know.  That’s not your area of expertise.  But, your area  _ is  _ projecting election trends and results.  Which, our friends, the Russians, have been tampering with for years.”

Louis nodded in understanding.  He really was trying to understand — the complicated nature of politics, foreign relations and the fickle sway of American elections not a mystery to him at all.  But one question remained:  why him?  Why did Harry choose him?

As if he were reading Louis’ mind, Harry said slowly, “So, yeah.  I chose you, because I thought that um...if I could access your formulas and research, I might be able to use it to track down the cell.  We had a feeling it was you that they were shadowing — getting their base formulas from.”  Harry exhaled and sipped his tea.  Louis couldn’t be sure if it was his first cup or twenty-fifth.  He’d been in the shower a long time.  

The fact that Harry had just admitted that not just he, but also a fucking Russian terrorist group, had basically been stealing Louis’ work was not lost on him.  “So, you’ve been pilfering my work from me this whole time?”

“Yes.”  Harry answered, plainly.  Well, at least he wasn’t lying about  _ that _ .  

“What happened when you met me?  I mean...how did you know I’d say yes, to having you work for me?”  Insecurity flooded through Louis’ fragile heart.  He had to know if this was just a job — a mission — to Harry.

“I didn’t.  In fact, the whole mission relied on getting you to hire me.  I was under a lot of pressure to make that happen  I went in ready to pull out all the stops.  But all of that changed when I actually met you.  I mean...if you didn’t hire me I would have had to resort to...more unsavory methods of getting what I needed. But — when I met you everything changed.”  

Louis gave him a puzzled look as he subconsciously held his breath.  Harry glanced at Louis, looking away quickly, before adding, “I could have never guessed that you’d be... _ you _ .”  

“What does that mean?”  Louis asked quietly, needing to hear — needing to know for sure. 

“It means that I knew  _ of _ Dr. Tomlinson, I knew his theories and his research. I knew I was going to come face to face with someone whose mind I had admired for years. But when I first saw you, that first day in your classroom…”

Louis remembered.  Harry had looked so out of place in his doorway — his hair long and loose around his face, his clothes more rock star than graduate student.  He had looked  _ gorgeous _ .  Still did, in fact.

“When I first saw you I almost turned around and walked out.”  He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.  “I didn’t think — I didn’t know if I could...not — not fall for you.”

Louis’ felt his heart leap in his chest and there was a constricting pain in his throat, like he might burst into dramatic tears at any moment.   _ Fuck _ .  Harry — falling for him?   No.  “ _ No _ .  You can’t...you can’t just say shit like that Harry.   You can’t just…”  Louis swallowed around a lump in his throat and got up, pacing in front of the couch.  

Harry sat perfectly still, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tracked Louis’ movement with his eyes.  “I mean it, Lou.  It’s been so hard trying to stay away — to not just...be with you like I want.  Like how I think you want…”  He took a deep breath before continuing, “You're so smart, and generous?  And  _ kind _ .  God.  You are just so kind — remember that time when you, when you helped that homeless guy…?”

Louis remembered.  Outside of their building downtown, a man had dropped all of his shit, the contents of several bags spilling out all over the busy city sidewalk.  “It wasn’t...anyone would do that.”

Harry shook his head.  “Not everyone.   _ You _ did that Louis.  And you...you’re funny.  So witty.  I — You’re just so incredible.”

Louis stopped and stared at Harry, their eyes burning into one another like jet fuel against a summer sky.  From where Louis was standing across the room it seemed like he could actually  _ see  _ the light and dark and all of the colors in between.  It felt like it was clawing at Louis skin, and he could only think of one name for it:  _ desire _ .  

But it was more than that.

Louis found himself himself  _ feeling _ everything.  A flood of emotions enveloped him like the tide washing over him at regular and rapid intervals — too fast for him to make sense of most of it.  In rapid succession Louis felt the relief of no longer comparing Harry to Josh, he felt the promise of new beginnings, but most of all he felt a connection to Harry and a fierce need to be  _ close _ to him, to just let himself go and feel what Harry made him feel — everything that Harry  _ could _ make him feel.  Louis realized that what he felt was a small unfurling thread of trust, something shifting inside him, the dark making way for the light.  He felt  _ hope _ .   

“ _ Harry… _ ”

“Louis.  Just...hear me out.”  Harry slowly stood from the couch, his long legs unfolding like some kind of exotic praying mantis.  “I would have told you the truth sooner.  I would have.  I just...it’s complicated.  But, please know…”  he stood in front of Louis, who was trying to hold back tears and suppress the tremble that was radiating outward from the center of his chest.  “Please know…”  Harry’s large calloused hands cupped Louis’ cheeks and Louis felt his thumbs brush over his cheekbones.  His breath smelled sweet like chamomile and a bit like the gum he was always chewing.  

“Harry…”  Louis murmured, again, unable to look away from Harry’s bright, earnest eyes.

“Please know that any time I was with you, talking, kissing, just fucking  _ looking  _ at you...all of  _ that _ ?  All of that was real.  More real than anything I’ve ever felt.”

Louis drew in a sharp breath, completely frozen, before he just gave in and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck.  He was warm and soft and he felt so  _ solid _ .  Like a foundation, a purpose.  Louis dropped his head to Harry’s shoulder, fitting into the crook of his neck like he belonged there...and he just.   _ Breathed _ .  In and out.  Soft and steady.  He breathed in time with Harry’s inhalations and exhalations, feeling the way their chests moved in tandem.  

He could get swept away like this, he thought, he really could.

“No more secrets,” Louis whispered, looking up into Harry’s eyes with a clarity he didn’t know he possessed, “I need to know everything — where you went during the conference, why you disappear all the time....”

Harry nodded immediately, the barrier finally completely eclipsed.  Louis felt like maybe he was looking into Harry’s soul in that moment, his eyes were so clear, so open.  “Yeah.  I can do that.”  

Louis pulled Harry back to the sofa and curled himself next to him, around him.  He dropped his head on Harry’s shoulder and felt him exhale over the top of his head.  “So what do you wanna know?”

“Everything.”

****

Everything was...a lot.

Harry told him about how he was supposed to get in and get out — get a hold of Louis’ research and pertinent files and then move on.  But, Louis had been on the cusp of discovering a new formula, a  _ ground breaking _ formula, and Harry couldn’t walk away from that.  Louis felt a sense of bitterness flood through him as he thought about all the times Harry encouraged him, helped him...all the times Louis thought Harry was looking for ways to learn from him.  It made him wonder if it was all a lie.

“You’re fucking brilliant, you know that, right?”  Harry said, breaking through Louis’ melancholy.

“I don’t know about that — I mean, it doesn’t feel like it, not now, knowing what you’ve just told me.  I — I feel kinda like an idiot.”

“God, Louis.  No.  Honestly.  You are seriously brilliant.  I never imagined I’d get to work with you — learn from you — when I first started.  But, Lou, you’ve taught me so much.”

Louis looked at him, skeptical.  “You don’t have to say that anymore, you know.  I mean.  Now that I know the truth.”

Harry looked offended.  “I — I’m not.  I mean it.  It got harder and harder to pull away, Lou.  Not just because of how physically attracted I am to you, but because of how much I  _ admire _ you.”

Louis felt heat crowd his face and he looked away.  “Whatever.”

Then, from across the sofa, Harry’s hand was on the side of his face, pulling him back into his gaze.  “I mean it.”

Louis stared and could see how serious he was so he nodded, still not entirely convinced, but willing to let it go to hear the rest.  

Harry went on to tell Louis about how the Russians had been studying American elections since before JFK had been president.  The intensity of their interest seemed to wax and wane over the years, perhaps due to whomever was in power at the time;, but in recent years, the NSA had discovered that the Russian’s focus had shifted to finding ways to rig the legislative seats in the U.S. Congress.  

“You mean — the Republican majority…”

“Russians.’

“Holy shit.”  Louis scratched his head and thought about it.  Hundreds of elections.  That was — 

“I know.  We’ve been watching them for years.  Studying them, trying to figure out their patterns.  The problem is...they never used the same formula twice.  Until…”

Louis’ head snapped up and he looked at Harry, almost afraid to ask.  “Until?”

“Until they used one of yours...twice, last year.”

“One of...one of mine?”  Louis squeaked.  “What?  Which one?”

“Um...the one with the five times exponential —”

“The five times exponential quotient….”  Louis finished.  “Ah fuck.”  Louis had been playing around with that formula for years.  He had finally figured it out two years ago.  He hadn’t even published it until last spring.  “How the fuck did they get it in time for the…”

“Presidential primary.  Yeah.  That’s why I was so intrigued by you.  I mean.  The formula is fucking brilliant.  But, then, when I tried to hack into your files they were iron clad.  I needed to get in and have access to the University system — an employee I.D.  But even then...it was really difficult.”  Harry was looking at him with something that looked a lot like wonder and approval.  Louis wanted to preen under the attention but what the fuck?  Someone had gotten to his files without him even knowing it.  Again, he felt the tingle of forgetfulness somewhere in the recesses of his brain.  All of a sudden he remembered...

“Hey!  A week or so ago my passwords weren’t working.  I thought it was my laptop...I put in a request for a new one…”  Louis trailed off, thinking about the timing, wondering what it meant.

Harry looked at him sheepishly.  “Yeah.  Um...sorry about that?  That was me.”

Louis clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to remain calm.  This was just a lot to take in one night.  “Why?’  His tone was harsh, and he didn’t mean for it to be.  It just was.  

“I needed to put it under another firewall.  All of your files.”  Harry watched Louis carefully.

Louis blanched and shook his head.  “You — You needed to put my files under another firewall?”

“Right.  Um.  We have reason to believe that the biggest voter fraud in the history of worldwide elections is underway.  And um…”  Harry looked nervous, biting his lip and inhaling deeply through his nose. 

“What, Harry?  Just say it.”

“I’m pretty sure they are using your newest formula.  The one you just…”

“Developed.  Fuck.  I — I don’t even know if it works, really.  Harry?  Are you sure?”

“About ninety percent.”

Those...those were good odds.  Shit.  Louis’ work had been stolen for the sole purpose of...oh no.  Louis sucked in a throaty mouthful of air.  “No.  Not…”

Harry nodded his head solemnly.  “Trump.”

Louis thought he would be sick again.  Donald Trump was the biggest threat to democracy since.  Well, since Adolf Hitler.  He was misogynistic, homophobic, racist.   The list went on and on.  And if the Russians could get him elected it would mean…

“So you see how serious it is, Lou.  If he’s elected as the 45th President of the United States…”

“We’re fucked.”

“Right.  Totally fucked.  And then...this particular radical terrorist group will have a distinct advantage — they will be able to  _ control _ the President of the United States.  Which...I mean, it’s not just a threat to democracy, it’s a threat to worldwide peace — a threat to that fragile balance holding the world together.  I don’t even know how far reaching this plot is, my clearance doesn’t go that high, but what I can tell you is that they have to be stopped.  The ramifications are astounding.  Catastrophic.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”  

They were silent for a moment, the gravity of what Harry had just said settling over Louis like a leaden weight.  Louis’ work — his life’s work — might be responsible for undermining the core of American politics and then what?  He cringed just thinking about what could happen.  

“H — Harry.  It’s a lot.  This is a fucking lot.”  

“I know babe.  I know.”  Harry’s voice was deep and soothing and Louis felt comforted by it immediately.  

“You — you just called me babe.”  

Harry’s mouth curved up into a crooked smile.  “Um...Sorry?”  

Louis bit his lip and tilted his head.  Harry was really, really pretty sitting there on his couch, eyes sleepy and cheeks soft and pink.  “Don’t be,” he said quietly.  

Harry smiled brighter.  “I think maybe we’ve talked enough, yeah?  Maybe it’s um...time to get some rest?”

Louis took a deep breath.  He did feel tired; bone tired.  Exhaustion was pulling at his eyes making them burn and making his body feel heavy.  “Yeah...just one more question.”

“Hm?”

“What can I do to help?”

Harry looked at him, his brows arched in surprise.  “Lou — there’s.  I mean...there’s not much to do.  We have a team trying to chase down the signals every time someone tries to get into the new firewalls I’ve put up.  And, like.  It’s kind of a waiting game now.”

Louis exhaled.  He felt so responsible...there had to be something he could do.  

“How about this...if you want, tomorrow, I can show you how I think they are using your formula and maybe you can help me look at a way to reverse it through the electronic voting system.  There has to be a counter to it, right?”

“Well, yeah…”  Louis thought for a second.  “It actually…”  He closed his eyes for a moment.  Wracking his brain he searched for something until…  “Right!  I actually think I know exactly what we could do.”

Harry looked excited for the first time all night.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I...I think I can figure it out.”

Harry smiled broadly and leaned into Louis’ space and kissed him, loud and wet, on the cheek.  Louis felt his cheek heat up under Harry’s soft lips immediately.  “You’re amazing,” Harry said, slow and a bit breathlessly.  

Louis’ eyes connected with Harry’s and, this close, he could see the way the green was dotted with golden amber and grayish-blue.  Louis felt exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.  The idea of being able to help reverse whatever damage his formula had caused made him thrum with excitement.  But there was something else.  Something more basic, more palpable...a feeling that Harry incited in him.  It was making him vibrate with something strange and unfamiliar.

Louis realized all at once that Harry  _ believed  _ in him.  _ Harry  _ believed in  _ Louis _ .  

Louis’ head was swimming.  The way Harry looked at him made Louis feel as if he could sprout wings and fly, like he was capable of anything, that  he could be strong, invincible, powerful. In that moment, Louis realized that he felt  _ equal  _ to Harry.   It felt  _ right _ to have Harry next to him.  This new sensation gave him the sense that he was standing on the edge of a cliff getting ready to leap.  But this time it was with someone beside him, jumping with him.  There was a recklessness to it — but Louis had a sense that the risk would be worth it. 

For a moment he almost gave in.  He almost let himself just fall.  

But something still made him hesitate.  All along he’d let himself just get swept away in Harry, in everything he wanted, needed, from him.  But now...now with everything out and in the open, and so much he still needed to process, Louis wanted to be careful.  He felt like he needed a moment to breathe and to figure out what exactly this meant for him.  For them.

“Right.”  Louis leaned back, as difficult as it was, and stood up, backing away from Harry.  Harry’s eyes widened a fraction but he covered it up quickly, giving Louis a tiny smile.  His lips were parted in a beautiful sign of invitation and Louis was kicking himself in the fucking ass for not kissing Harry when he had the chance.  “Um.  You’re staying, right?”

“Yeah.  I have to…”

“Protect me, right.”  Louis rolled his eyes, but secretly very okay with Harry staying.  Not only did he want to get started on their work right away, he did actually feel safer with him there.  Not that he’d ever admit that to Harry or anyone else.

Harry had stood up too, and was looking around the small living room uncomfortably.  “I’ll just…” he gestured toward the couch.  “Sleep here, I guess.”

Right.  Louis hadn’t thought this through completely.  Of course he’d have to stay on the couch.  He couldn’t very well sleep with Louis — not under the circumstances.  Louis was pretty sure that would be a very, very bad idea.  He also couldn’t sleep in Liam’s room because Liam was so fastidious about his stuff, he would be sure to freak out if there was a stray hair or a wrinkle out of place on his perfectly made bed. Besides, who knew what kind of weird stuff the heterosexuals got up to these days…

“Yeah.  I’ll get you a pillow and some bedding, ok?”

Harry nodded his head once before adding, “Any chance you have an extra toothbrush?”

“Yeah, of course.  I’ll leave out a towel and washcloth in the bathroom, too.”

“Thanks.”  

Louis gave Harry one more, hopefully not  _ too  _ forlorn, glance before heading away toward the linen closet.  Definitely a good idea to keep Harry on the couch.  Definitely, he thought, trying not to remember the way Harry’s lips felt on his and the way he tasted, the feeling familiar but enticing at the same time.  Remorse battled with arousal during Louis’ entire bedtime routine and plagued him while he struggled to shut his eyes.  He felt weak — so very weak — and was glad that he had made Harry stay on the couch.  Probably the best idea he’d had since he’d met Harry Styles.  

****

It was a good idea.

It was. 

Louis kept reminding himself of that fact.  It  _ was  _ a good idea.    

“ _ Fuck _ .”  There it was again.  

Harry had been groaning off and on for the past three hours.  Louis knew it was three hours because he had been lying on his side staring at his digital alarm clock, watching the minutes tick by slowly.  Excruciatingly slowly.  This time the groan had been joined by the expletive with what sounded like every single spring on the worn sofa protesting at the same time.  

The effect, overall, was not exactly conducive to sleep.

He heard Harry huff out a harsh breath —  _ from all the way down the hall  _ — and decided that he’d had enough.  

“What the fuck is your problem Harry?”  Louis must have startled Harry, he hadn’t tried to be stealthy, but apparently he was because Harry shouted and fell off the couch.  With an unceremonious thud.

“Ah fuck!”  Harry’s pained groan was muffled, his face buried in the carpeting.  

Louis barked out a laugh and scurried around the couch to kneel down by Harry.  “Jesus, Harry!  Are you ok?”

Harry rolled over, grimacing and moaning, “ouch…” while rubbing his head.  

“Need some ice for that?”

“Nah.  It’s — “  He sat up, brows furrowed.  “It’s my back.”

“Y — your back?”  Louis was confused.

As Harry sat up, he pulled his legs in and leaned backward on his hands, arching his back so that his chest rose up toward the ceiling.  Even in the dim light, Louis could see the outline of tattoos on Harry’s chest, stomach and arms.  Gulping he reached out to touch Harry’s sternum.  

“I — you have a lot of tattoos,” he whispered.  Shit.  Inappropriate.

Harry stilled and Louis could swear he stopped breathing under his fingertips.  He snapped his hand back and was glad Harry couldn’t see how he blushed.  Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

“Yeah.  They’re kind of addictive.  You have some too, yeah?”

“Yeah.  I do.”  Louis was at a loss for words, the phantom feeling of Harry’s smooth skin burning up his arm and churning in his stomach.  

“Sorry if I woke you.”  Harry’s deep voice pulled Louis away from his indecent thoughts.  

Standing back up, Louis offered Harry his hand, tugging him up to standing.  Harry winced and put a hand to the small of his back.  “Your back?”

Harry nodded and Louis tried to ignore the fact that the other man was only in his underwear and was still holding his hand.  “Yeah.  I hurt it when I was on a mission.  Hasn’t been the same since.” 

“Oh.”  Slowly, Louis pulled his hand back.  Holding hands with a nearly naked hot man in the middle of his apartment at three in the morning could lead to absolutely nowhere good.  

“I couldn’t get comfortable out here.  I’m really sorry I woke you, Lou.”  

Louis considered their options.  Harry could try the couch again, keeping them both up all night.  Or he could brave het-land, and he’d have to make sure that he didn’t leave so much as a fingerprint or else Liam would blow a gasket.  Or...he could bunk with Louis.

The inevitability of this was not lost on Louis.

“Come on then.”  Louis turned sharply and walked back down the hall toward his bedroom.  He got to the door and could see Harry’s silhouette in the middle of the living room.  “Well?  What are you waiting for?  An engraved invitation?”  

This was a bad idea.  A very, very bad idea.  

“You sure?”  Harry asked, hesitant.  

Louis let out an exasperated sigh, “Yeah.”  

“Ok, then.  Coming!” Harry called out, grabbing his pillow and following Louis.  

And, shit.  That was not a word Louis needed to have in his head at that moment.

****

After some minor negotiation — “that’s your side...this is mine”  —  the two of them were settled in bed with about 18 inches between them.  The heat pouring off of Harry’s body was maddening  and he kept making these cute little snuffling sounds.  

Louis was fairly certain he wouldn’t survive the night.

“Night Lou.”  

That molasses sweet voice sounded like it was right in his fucking ear and Louis was now positive he wouldn’t survive the night.

“Night Harry.”

Louis shuffled so his back was to Harry, who was flat on his back on the other side of the bed.   He glared at the clock, somehow convinced it was the little plastic piece of machinery’s fault he was in this predicament.  He turned it around roughly, so the red glare bounced off the wall.   _ Fuck you, clock _ , he thought.

He was losing his mind.  Talking to clocks.

Squeezing his eyes shut he could only pray sleep would come quickly, before he went completely nuts with Harry Styles overload.

****

When he woke up it was still dark.  It was still dark and he could feel movement on the bed next to him.  

Louis lay very still and tried to figure out what was happening.  Then he heard it.

A small, choked off moan.  

He lay perfectly still and waited.  

Then, the bed started moving again and he heard the noise again.  Harry’s voice was deep and unmistakable and with the moan this time came a shuddery, whispered, “ _ Fuck. _ ” 

Louis quickly put the pieces together and, oh shit.  Harry was getting himself off.  Against the mattress of Louis’ bed.  With Louis next to him.   _ Christ _ , Harry must be desperate if he was at the point where he needed to do  _ that  _ next to Louis.

Louis bit his lip and felt heat flood his groin like hot lava rushing through a drought-ravaged plain.  Harry let out a little gasp of air — almost inaudible — but Louis heard it.  Then he felt Harry still, probably trying to figure out if Louis heard him.  

Louis didn’t move — didn’t  _ breathe _ .  Harry started up again.  Louis could almost  _ see  _ what Harry’s perfect, round ass looked like humping down against the sheets; slow and steady, as he tried not to wake Louis.  Well, too bad, because Louis was definitely awake.  Awake and keenly interested in what was happening behind him.  

“Sh —  _ shit _ .”  Harry muttered, under his breath, but holy fuck was it hot — hearing the desperation in that single word.  It had Louis pumping his hips forward, into nothing, just needing.  

Harry’s body started moving quicker, the bed shaking a bit with the force of it.  Louis couldn’t help it, he was swept away with it.  Hearing Harry, feeling the sheet slide across his skin from Harry’s movement, smelling Harry’s  _ sex _ .  It was almost enough to make him spontaneously come.  

“Lou?”

Harry’s harsh whisper snapped Louis right out of it.  ‘It’ being his own hand that was slowly creeping down his torso towards no man’s land and hopefully, a bit of relief — Louis’ cock fully hard and starting to protest the lack of attention.

Louis bit his lip and felt tension creep into his shoulders.  “Yeah?” He whispered back.

“You — You’re awake.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Louis cock  _ hurt _ , he was so filled with arousal and  _ need  _ and... _ fuck it. _

Turning quickly, Louis launched himself toward Harry, pulling at his shoulder so he’d flip over onto his back, and then landing squarely on top of him, their erections bumping into each other, hard.  

“Fuck,  _ Louis _ ,” Harry moaned at the same time Louis groaned, half in pain, half in unrestrained desire.  

“S — sorry.  Sorry.”

Harry didn’t answer.  Instead, he grabbed Louis’ head with both hands, bringing their mouths together, hungry and wet, tongues meeting, teeth bumping.  Harry kissed Louis long and hard, like he was starving for him.  Louis gave back just as much.  The kiss was demanding, almost brutal, the months of wanting fueling it — driving them deeper, deeper, deeper.  

“L — Louis.  Louis,” Harry panted, pulling away from Louis’ mouth, making Louis moan in desperation.  “Are you —” he groaned when Louis started moving his hips, the friction absolutely delicious and not nearly enough.  “Are you sure?  I…” 

Louis whined, chasing Harry’s mouth, whispering in a shaky, deep voice, “I’m sure.  I —  _ yes _ .  Harry.   _ Please _ .”  

Harry looked into Louis’ eyes for a millisecond before he dove back in.  Their tongues met in an electric slide of heat and Louis moaned deeply, Harry catching it with his eager mouth, the taste of their arousal building between them in them in the fevered kiss.

Harry pulled away from Louis’ mouth, only to attack his neck, his tongue hot and clever, following behind his nipping, scraping teeth.  Louis moaned, deep and throaty, and Harry responded by meeting his grinding hips with strong, circular movements of his own.  

It was…

Oh, God.  It was so good.  So blindingly good.  Nothing else mattered.  Nothing else but the feel of Harry underneath him and the way their bodies somehow just knew how to move together and the way Harry’s mouth was learning every inch of him and the way Louis just wanted Harry naked and bare next to him.  He wanted nothing between them.  No clothing.  No secrets.  Nothing.  

He just wanted Harry.

“Off.  Off.”  Louis panted, sliding between Harry’s legs so he could pull off his tight boxer briefs.  

Harry was breathing heavily and Louis could see the way his teeth gleamed in the darkness and he could smell his arousal.  He threw Harry’s underwear somewhere behind him and dragged his nails down Harry’s torso.  Harry shivered under the touch and breathed out raggedly.  

Louis wanted to destroy him.  

If only he could last.  

“You now.  You.”  Harry was pawing at Louis’ pajama bottoms so Louis pushed up into a plank position over Harry and Harry slid his hot hands under Louis’ pants, shoving them down to his knees.  “God.  Fuck.  Your ass...Lou.”  Harry’s hands were grabbing at his backside roughly, pulling him apart and making him whine.  It felt like he couldn’t hold it in anymore — everything was right there on the surface, scratching at Louis’ skin to come out, come out and just wreck Harry.  

Louis kicked off his pants and yanked his t-shirt over his head before climbing back on top of Harry.  When their — now uncovered — dicks finally rubbed up against each other Harry hissed and his hips stuttered.  

“Did you — did you just?”

“Fuck.  No.  But I’m close.  So fucking close.”  Harry’s voice was uneven and his skin sweaty and tacky against Louis’.  They were both wet with arousal, pre-come making their cocks slide together easily, with just enough roughness to make it  _ good _ .  

Louis ground down and thought he might pass out at how good it felt to be naked and pressed to Harry like this.  It was fast and heated and almost frantic — the desperation building between them, making Louis a whining sweaty mess, just  _ using _ Harry, getting off on him.  Harry was doing the same thing, his hands possessive and almost too rough and he kept rutting against Louis like some kind of animal and it felt  _ right _ .  So, so right.  Inevitable and good and like everything Louis had imagined it could be, but even his imagination couldn’t have prepared him for how good it was in real life.

Louis ground down and Harry bucked up and it was wet and hot and uncoordinated but exactly what Louis needed.  Harry’s hands were in his hair and their mouths were open and they were sharing each other’s air and fuck if this wasn’t the most erotic moment in Louis’ life.  

“ _ Louis _ .”  Harry moaned and that was it.  Louis was a goner.

Doubling his efforts, Louis started fucking up against Harry’s abdomen and his cock faster until Harry cried out, shoved his hand between them, and grabbed them both with his hand.  He kept Louis’ head to the side, fingers tangled in his hair, completely immovable, as he sucked a searing mark into his neck, just below his ear, and started jacking them both off hard and fast.

“Oh god.  Oh god.   _ Harry _ .  God.  ‘M so close.  My  _ god _ .  Harry.”  Louis was babbling and he couldn’t care less.  He felt like he was burning up, the need to come consuming him; the need to hear Harry come making him incoherent and wild.

“Come on baby.  Come on.  Come for me.”  Harry’s words were hot and heavy and commanding and Louis just.  

“F —  _ fuck _ .”  Louis thrust into the tight, wet hold of Harry’s hand one last time and shot off between them.  He felt dizzy with how good it felt, how fucking perfect it felt and he came and came and came until he was whining and shaking pitifully on top of Harry, struggling to hold himself up.  

“Off.  Off.”  Harry ordered, pushing Louis off.  Louis was sleepy and stunned and pliant so he rolled off, not entirely sure what was happening.  Harry clambered up and straddled Louis legs so his cock was just above his own.  “Wanna...can I come on you?”

“Shit,” Louis groaned and arched his back, his dick twitching painfully.  “Yes, God.  Yes.”

Harry was already pushing into a tight fist, hips rocking back and forth into his hand, his entire body tense and glistening with sweat in the pale light.  “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he said through gritted teeth, “Can’t wait to fuck you. Can’t wait to split you o — open on my cock.  Wanna.   _ Fuck _ .  Wanna mark you up.  Make you…”  Harry’s body went rigid and he was coming with a hoarse, loud, shout.  

Louis closed his eyes as he gripped Harry’s thick thighs and felt warm stripes of come coat his cock, his pelvis and sternum.  Jesus Christ, it felt good to be  _ claimed  _ like this.  By Harry.

Harry groaned and collapsed, half on top of Louis, half to the side of him.  They were both struggling to catch their breath and to Louis, it felt like the best kind of struggling.  His body felt loose and relaxed and, God, that happened fast.  

Harry’s hand was massaging his hip when Louis said, “Should we...talk about this?”

Harry’s hand stilled for a second before he went back to rubbing over Louis’ soft flesh and then up his side and over his ribcage.  His hand landed on Louis’ heart and stopped.  Fingers splayed over his chest, Harry said, “Nope.  No more talking.  That was perfect.   _ You’re  _ perfect.”

Louis wriggled around a little, grabbing some tissues from the nightstand so he could wipe them both off — knowing they’d still be sticky and uncomfortable, but at least making an effort.  He reached down for the duvet and pulled it up over their cooling, sticky skin.  “Shower?”

“Nope.  No shower.  No talking.  Just sleep.”

Louis smiled in the dark.  Sleep sounded like exactly what he needed right now.  Harry kissed his shoulder and before he could register the small sign of affection, he was already out.  Sated and happy for the first time in months.  Years, even.


	7. Chapter 7

There was something about the smell of coffee floating through the air while still laying in bed that made Louis think of cozy inns and the soft glow of a fireplace and sleeping in until the sun was high in the sky overhead.  It made him think of waking up as a kid, knowing the entire house was up and moving, except him, pretending it was Saturday and he had nowhere to go, no place to be.  It reminded him of having someone to share breakfasts with and someone to come home to.  It was homey and comfortable and almost enough to make Louis want to get out from under his warm comfy duvet.  Almost.  But not quite.

Liam never made coffee.  Unless he thought Louis was pissed at him.  He never drank it — said it made him too jittery.  So having someone — _Harry_ — make him coffee was special, _important_ somehow.  It made Louis feel like pulling him back into bed to see if they could find out what they’d missed last night, fill in all the missing pieces that were left behind in their hurried inhalations and frenzied exhales.  Then he wanted to wake up and do it all over again.  And then, maybe, when they were too exhausted to do anything else, they could get up and drink the coffee, warming it in the microwave because it had gone cold by then…

Louis had an overactive imagination sometimes.  

Curiosity finally got the better of him, so he pushed the warm blanket off and shivered his way into his pajama shorts and t-shirt.  He grabbed a hoodie off the back of his desk chair and slipped on his wooly Notre Dame slippers.  He stopped by the bathroom and peed, brushed his teeth and got a good look at himself in the mirror.  He looked... _ happy _ .  For the first time in forever, he looked and  _ felt _ happy.  Rested.  Which was not quite the truth — four hours of sleep worked when he was in college but these days, not so much.  But he  _ felt  _ good.  

Padding out to the kitchen he found Harry, dressed adorably in a pair of his too short joggers and a henley that was about two sizes too small on him, buttering toast.  Louis could see one of the laurel tattoos peeking out between the layers of cotton and his breath caught at the sight of them.  He knew the way that skin felt.  He knew the way Harry’s skin tasted.  He knew what it felt like sliding against his.

A barrage of memories assaulted him.  They were  _ naked _ together last night.  Louis had felt Harry’s naked body all over him and  _ fuck _ .  It wasn’t nearly enough and, shit, they probably should talk about it but Louis was having an internal fist-bump kind of moment that he finally slept with Harry.  That he, Louis Tomlinson, slept with  _ that  _ guy — the cute one with the dimples making him,  _ him _ , breakfast.  Harry.

Louis remembered reading once that sleeping, actually sleeping, with someone was one of the most intimate things you could do with someone.  The thought made his stomach flip in a wild circus of butterflies.  Right then, standing in the early morning light, between his kitchen and living room, Louis could  _ smell _ Harry on him, covering his body like a second skin.  The moment of domesticity tinged with leftover lust from the evening before, felt like finding something he’d been missing his entire life.  He’d never had this with Josh, who rarely slept over and who never invited Louis to his place because Josh’s roommate was a “slob”.  In hindsight, Louis, of course, knew exactly why, but he’d never questioned it at the time.  This, this waking up with Harry in his kitchen, felt like Harry belonged there.   _ They  _ belonged here.  Together.

“Hey!” 

Louis looked up from where he’d been watching Harry’s lithe hips move as he puttered around the kitchen and saw the other man smiling at him.  “Hey.”  He smiled back, feeling suddenly shy.

Harry put down a spatula and walked the few feet across the kitchen to where Louis stood.  “Hey,” he repeated, looking down at Louis, smiling from his eyes deep into Louis’ own.

“You said that.”  Louis watched as the dimple showed itself slowly in the crease of Harry’s smile.  Adorable.

“Hey.”  Harry bent down and brushed his lips against Louis’, feather light and sweet.

“Now you’re just trying to annoy me,” Louis said as he pursed his lips, kissing Harry more firmly.  

Harry hummed against his lips and tucked his face into the crook of Louis’ neck.  “Good morning.”

“He knows other words.”

Harry snickered, tickling Louis with the fair whiskers that dotted his chin.  “You smell good.”

“I smell like sex.  And you.”

“Like I said…”  Harry pressed his mouth to Louis’ neck, open, warm and wet.  

Louis breathed out sleepily and wrapped his arms around Harry’s back.  Harry was broad and muscular and Louis wanted to memorize every contour of his body.  Harry’s tongue was doing something very, very interesting and, if Louis wasn’t careful, he was going to get swept away.  

He didn’t really care.  Being swept away was starting to feel like something he was very, very ok with.

Harry pulled his mouth away from Louis’ neck and Louis almost cried from how  _ devastating  _ that was.  “Made breakfast.”  Harry looked down at Louis and nuzzled his nose and the moment was so tender and perfect Louis thought he actually might really cry.  

Harry pulled away, dragging Louis with him into the kitchen.  “Coffee”  he said quietly, handing over a Donald Duck mug — Louis’ favorite.  Sipping it, while watching Harry, Louis noticed it was made exactly how he liked it.  Cream, no sugar.

“God.  That’s good.”  

Harry nodded and gave him a bright smile.  “Toast and scrambled eggs.”  He handed Louis a plate.  

“Thank you Harry.  This is...no one’s ever made me breakfast before.”  Louis tucked his chin to his shoulder as he started to head toward the table.  He stopped when he felt Harry’s warm hand on his forearm.

“No one?”

“I mean.  My mom, when I was a kid.”  Louis was trying to joke but it came out flat.  

Harry cupped the back of his head and pulled him forward, kissing him firmly, chastely, but with a sense of control that had Louis reeling.  “We need to change that.”

Louis bit his lip and just nodded his head.  He was starting to get used to Harry saying whatever popped into his mind.  It was like the Harry he’d met all those months ago had intensified — this new and improved model was somehow a technicolor version of the Harry Louis had been falling for all this time.  He was vivid, bright.  Truthful.  

They sat down and started to eat their breakfast.  Louis took a bite and grinned.  “This is amazing, Harry.  Really.  Best plate of eggs I’ve had in a long time.”  He was about to continue doling out the complements when Harry stopped him.  

“Honestly, Lou.  This is about the only thing I know how to cook.  So, don’t get too excited.”  

Louis laughed and scooped up the last of his eggs.  “Well, I can make a mean pb&j and can boil water.”

“Ah! Good!  We’re a match made in heaven, then!”

And this...this all felt so comfortable, so right.  

Harry looked at him and Louis felt lost in his eyes for a moment.  The fury of how fast they had come together last night rushed through him and he blushed, just thinking of how desperate Harry had been.  Louis could almost forget that a secret Russian terrorist cell had stolen his life’s work in order to put a corrupt man into the office of the presidency with the aim of controlling the entire world.   _ Fuck _ , how had his boring existence turned into this crazy spy shit so quickly?  The thought entered Louis’ mind, making him shake his head at the ludicrousness of it — he was a math professor, for God’s sake.  

“I can see the honeymoon’s over,” Harry joked as he watched Louis grow more pensive.

Louis gave him a small smile.  “Shit.  Am I that transparent?”

“Nah.”  Harry sighed, picking up their plates.  “We have a lot of work to do today.  But...”

Louis pushed away from the table and picked up their mugs, heading to the counter to join Harry.  He exhaled and started re-filling their cups.  “But?”

Harry turned away from the sink, stilling Louis’ hands and pulling him back into his arms.  To Louis, if felt like he’d been away too long.  “I think we need to talk about last night.”  Harry’s voice was light, but serious.  

Louis nodded against his chest and closed his eyes.  He could hear the metronome-like thumping of Harry’s heart beneath the soft cotton and he reveled in how warm the other man was — how perfectly he fit inside his arms and against his body.  Reluctantly, he pushed away, sighing.  “Yeah.  You’re probably right.”

Harry smiled.  “Hey — none of that.  I just wanted to apologize for...like.  How fast it was?  And, like, how horny I was.”  Harry blushed, a near violent red, and for a moment Louis was struck by how  _ young  _ Harry was.  Christ, he had so much responsibility for a kid his age.  Louis had almost forgotten that.  

“I’m not complaining, Harry.”  Louis smirked.  “I wouldn’t mind a re-do though,” he teased.

Harry’s mouth slanted into a crooked grin.  “Neither would I.”

Harry’s hands had made their way down to the center of Louis’ back as they stood there, wrapped around each other, swaying in the morning light.  “But, you know.  I’m not sorry.  I mean.  I’m glad you told me the truth and...it’s a lot to take in, to process, you know?  But, I’m not sorry,” Louis said solemnly, hoping Harry believed him.

Harry hummed and tucked his fingertips inside Louis’ pajamas, tickling at the top of his ass.  Louis grinned.  “Hard to keep my hands off you now,” Harry mused.  

Louis bit his lip.  “Lucky for you you don’t have to.”

A shadow passed over Harry’s face before he spoke again.  “There’s um...there’s something else.”

Louis arched an eyebrow and waited.  

“Um.  So I was on leave before this assignment.”

“Right.  You mentioned that last night.”  Louis wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

Harry pulled away a little, putting some space between them, but still resting his hands on Louis’ hips.  “There was a guy…”

Louis was suddenly afraid of where Harry was going with this.  “Go on.”

“Right.  Um.  He and I...we weren’t really involved.  Not, like.  Physically?  But emotionally, I guess...I was definitely — I had developed feelings for him or whatever.  I hadn’t told him, but I think he knew.  It’s part of the job, sometimes, you know?  You get so far under, so deep undercover, that you sort of forget yourself.”  Harry looked out of the window behind Louis’ head.  Louis knew the view wasn’t spectacular — the side of a brick wall — so he was sure Harry wasn’t getting inspiration from the scenery.  So he waited.  

Slowly, Harry found Louis’ eyes again and Louis was surprised to see the pale green misted over.  “Um.  He...Alex, was killed.”

Louis felt a sudden rush of terrible affection and emotion flood his chest.  “Oh!  Harry.  I’m so sorry.”  He pulled Harry into his arms so he could hold him —- tight.  “God.  What — what happened?”

Harry took a deep breath and whispered into Louis’ hair, “I couldn’t — I couldn’t stop it.  He was shot.  I was the target, but he was...Alex was shot.  And killed.”

“Fuck.”  Louis ran his hands over Harry’s back, shushing him, not quite sure if Harry was crying or if he was just lost in the memories. Seeing Harry like that made Louis want to protect him, take care of him –– or at the very least, take that pain away. 

Harry was quiet, his hands clenching the thin material of Louis’ hoodie as he let Louis hold him.  Louis wasn’t sure how long they stood like that but it was Harry who spoke first.  “I…I had a really hard time with it.  Alex never knew...that I’m...you know.  With the NSA.”  He drew in a shaky breath.  “It really ate me up.”

“I can imagine,” Louis said quietly, really not able to imagine it because what kind of hell was that?  Louis had been lied to, had his heart broken, but no one he cared for had actually  _ been killed _ .  In front of him, no less.   

“Louis, I...I was supposed to protect him.  I — he never knew who I really was..”  Harry’s voice cracked and Louis could see the raw emotion on his face, in his eyes.

“Oh, Harry.  God.”  He didn’t know what to say.  It didn’t feel like words were enough.  “I’m sure — I’m sure he would have felt the same about you no matter who you really were.”  As soon as the words left his mouth Louis wanted to stuff them back in.  

Harry kept talking.  “It’s why I took a break — went on leave.  I requested it.  My superiors thought it was just a hard case — that I needed to get away, recharge.  But really, I was a mess.  I couldn’t function.  Couldn’t eat.  I blamed myself.  I —  I felt so dirty.  So dishonest.”  He looked away and Louis pulled his face gently back so they could look into each other’s eyes.  

“Tell me,” Louis asked, tenderly, softly.

“I went and like...talked to someone?  A therapist.  Yeah.  And...it took a long time but eventually I felt better.  I was still wary of letting myself fall for anyone again, but I did learn to stop blaming myself for what happened.  So I came back to work.”  He gazed into Louis’ eyes, deep and long.  “Then I took this case. And met you.”

Louis nodded his head, finally understanding.  It explained a lot.  All of the pushes and pulls, the back and forth, the confusion.  The fact that Harry was being so honest with him right then, in that moment.  The way Harry was looking at him...it made Louis believe him.  Made Louis believe in  _ them _ .  That maybe they could really have a shot at something.  

When Harry pushed away his eyes were clear and he looked down at Louis, “I wanted you to know.  Because — like.  Me not getting involved with you — or trying not to, anyway — was partly because I was undercover but also because of...what happened before.”

Louis nodded, the gravity of what Harry’s life was, settling in.  “Did your family — um.  Did anyone else know why you went on leave?”

“No one knows.  I didn’t tell anyone.  Except my mom.” Harry’s face softened into a look of gentle fondness as he spoke about his mother, “She knows everything.  She’s — yeah.  She’s great.  Want you to meet her someday.”  

“I’d like that.”  Louis felt a million questions circling in his brain but he focused on one at a time.  “Is your mom NSA too?”

“Hm?  Oh, yeah.  She is.  My dad’s FBI.  My sister is CIA.  I wasn’t kidding when I said it was all in the family.”  Harry smirked, the wit and mischievousness back in his eyes; Louis was grateful for that.  He hated seeing Harry so sad; he should always be happy.  

“Wow.  That’s.  Wow.”

Harry chuckled and slipped his hands into Louis’.  Harry’s hands were big and warm and safe.  They were calloused and not exactly smooth, and they felt good in Louis’ own.  “So.  Yeah.  That’s everything.  You know everything.   _ Now _ .”

“What about the conference, Harry?  And all the times when you went missing from work?”  Louis asked, knowing the answer, but needing to hear it from Harry.

“Yeah...I was tracking leads.  The week I went missing I went undercover to Helsinki.  The conference…”  His eyes roamed Louis’ face.  “There were two operatives — at the hotel.  Our team is starting to think their mission was to kidnap you.”

Louis dragged in a scorched breath of air.  “ _ What _ ?”

Harry pulled Louis closer, kissing his temple.  “I...took them out that weekend, but we’ve had some further intelligence to suggest there was a bigger plot involved than we first thought.”

Louis sighed in relief, stunned, but finally feeling as though he had some understanding of Harry’s erratic behaviour.  He still wanted to know more— why Harry went into the family business, how he learned so much about computer programming and mathematical formulas, and stupid shit like who was his first kiss and when did he figure out he was gay (or even if he  _ was  _ gay)  — he wanted to know it all.  But he knew they had more pressing things to do.  He was hopeful that they’d have a lot of time after this was all over to learn everything there was to know about each other.

Louis was looking forward to that.  

****

“How did you get that?”

Harry’s voice was agitated and it did nothing to calm Louis’ frayed nerves.  “I told you,” he breathed out slowly, trying to stay calm.  “When you move the 9 here…” he shifted the number on the screen.  “And then you do this...and um...take the decimal from here to here…”  Louis was trying to move slowly, purposely careful so that Harry didn’t miss a step, but it was increasingly more and more difficult as the day wore on and everything they tried seemed just one hair off from what they needed in order to reverse Louis’ newest formula.  Louis moved the cumulative distribution symbol before adding a binomial at the end of the string of symbols and then...

“Fuck!”  Harry shouted, his deep voice booming in the small apartment.  “Show me again.”

“We need a break,” Louis muttered, pushing away from the computer.  “ _ You _ need a break.”

Harry looked like he wanted to say something else, and Louis was fairly certain it wasn’t something very nice when the other man pushed away from the table too.  “Shit.  Yeah.  Yeah maybe you’re right.”  He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and stared off into space, as if the answers lay there.  

They had ordered in a pizza around 3:00 and it was now almost 7:00 — the day had eclipsed around them and it didn’t feel like they were any closer than they were that morning.  They had taken a few breaks throughout the day, each of them getting a shower in and finding time to banter, but for the most part, they’d been working non-stop.  Louis’ idea for the formula reversal was right, it was just a matter of finding the magic combination.  

“You wanna watch a movie or something?” Louis asked, calling out over his shoulder as he headed toward the kitchen to retrieve the cold pizza from the fridge, “Maybe we just need to walk away for…”  He stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes, Harry skidding to a halt behind him.

“Lou?”  

“Shhh!”  He ordered.  Something...something was dancing right behind his eyelids and…

“Holy fuck.  I’ve got it!”  Louis pivoted and sprinted back to the dining room, throwing himself down in front of the computer, scrambling to type out a series of numbers and symbols — his hands moving so fast he could barely recognize them as his own.

Harry was breathing over the back of his neck, hands braced on the arms of his chair as Louis worked frantically.  A few heart-wrenching seconds went by and Louis sat back, his eyes wide in disbelief, Harry’s body on his back warm and solid.  

“Did you…?”

Louis grinned.  He stared at the computer screen a moment before craning his neck backward.  “I did.”  

He watched Harry stare at the computer, doing the calculations mentally for a moment.  “And the quotient…”

“Is here.”  Louis pointed at the screen.

Harry breathed out, long and slow.  “Goddamn, Louis.  You did it.”  His voice was slow and even, awed.

“I did.  I did it.”  Louis could hardly believe it himself.  He couldn’t get over it.  He was staring at the numbers as they swam in front of his eyes like little bits of gold floating in a stream.  Then, slowly, as if waking from a fever dream he wondered why he was just sitting there when he could…

“I did it!” Louis yelled, leaping up out of his chair, shoving Harry backward.  

Harry regained his footing and his face split into a wide grin.  “You did!” He yelled back, catching Louis in his arms.  Louis jumped up, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist and smiled into his mouth.  Without even thinking about it, he kissed Harry — tongue first, enthusiastic and full-on.  He wasn’t holding back.  Not anymore.  

Harry’s mouth on his was insistent, almost as if he couldn’t wait any longer either.  Finally, there was nothing left — nothing keeping them apart, nothing to hold them back.  The wet, eager slide of Harry’s tongue against his had Louis moaning into the kiss.  Harry squeezed at his ass, attacking Louis’ neck, sucking hard enough for Louis to catch his breath, the tantalizing scrape of teeth against his pulse point sending blood to his cock, hard and fast.  

“Harry — “  Louis’ mind was hazy and Harry’s big hands were everywhere as he guided Louis’ feet back to the floor.  

Harry kissed him again, their mouths greedy, not able to get enough of each other fast enough.  Louis felt hot all over, the fury of Harry’s body like a giant fireball exploding against him.  Louis was tired of thinking, tired of worrying.  He just wanted.  He wanted and the urge to take everything Harry was offering was a maddening spark that burned bright inside of him.

Louis broke the kiss so he could pull Harry’s t-shirt off of him — well, Louis’ t-shirt off of him, which was suddenly one of the hottest things Louis could think of in his sex addled brain.  Harry returned the favor, the feeling of hot skin against hot skin causing Louis’ breath to quicken and his heart to start pounding in his chest.  Their mouths were attached and Louis couldn’t get enough of how Harry tasted — so good — sweet and insatiable, he could taste the need in his kiss.  

Harry’s hands were in his hair and Louis couldn’t hold in the sounds coming from his mouth, muffled because Harry seemed adamant to keep kissing him, no matter how desperate they were to come up for air.  Harry’s skin was smooth and tight across the miles of muscles that Louis couldn’t stop touching.  His nipples were hard under Louis’ fingertips and he gave them each an experimental twist, earning him a deep, long, drawn out groan from Harry.  

“Fuck, Louis. You’re so... _ Fuck _ .  Want you.”  Harry was quickly unraveling and Louis wanted to see how far he could take him.  

He reveled in the way Harry was slowly melting in his arms, his big hands not settling anywhere at once, just roaming every inch of Louis’ body like he couldn’t get enough — didn’t want to get enough, just wanted it all, always.  He slipped his hands down Harry’s endless torso, feeling every ridge and definition of muscle, fingertips dancing along his V-lines.  He pulled away from Harry’s wet, plush lips and asked, “Can I…?”

“Only if I can first,” Harry retorted, a challenge in his eyes.  

“I wish you would,” Louis teased him back, feeling Harry’s hands immediately dive into his pants, pushing his underwear and joggers down to his ankles, his lanky frame following the movement until he was crouched on the ground at Louis’ feet.  As he slowly rose back up Louis’ body, he stopped at Louis’ cock, now fully hard and begging for attention.  

“ _ Look _ at you,” Harry breathed out, hands gripping the sides of Louis’ hips and ass, mouth hanging open obscenely.  Louis had to close his eyes at the sight, it was almost too much, his legs starting to feel wobbly and unsteady.

Drawing in a shuddery breath, Louis moaned, “Harry, please.”

Harry licked up the underside of Louis’ shaft, fingers digging into the meatiest part of his ass, and brought just the tip into his mouth.  The inside of Harry’s mouth was a glorious thing, the way he was rolling his tongue around the head of Louis’ dick had him seeing stars.  Louis’ hands flew into Harry’s long, wavy hair, not sure if he wanted to hold him there and fuck into the hot welcoming heat of his mouth or push him away, the overstimulation almost painful.  Because he  _ wanted _ to come. But he also wanted his true first time with Harry to be special — monumental. The other two times they got off with each other didn’t count, as far as Louis was concerned, because there were secrets between them.  Now, now that they were truly themselves and bared to one another, he wanted Harry inside of him, moving slowly at first, then hard and fast. He wanted to watch Harry fall apart, coming inside of Louis’ welcoming body with Louis’ name on his lips.

He wanted it all.

“H — Harry. Stop.   _ Stop _ — fuck.  I’m gonna come if you keep doing that.”  

Harry grinned up at Louis, popping off his dick with an audible sound.  “That’s the idea,” he said menacingly, going back in for more, but Louis stopped him.  

“Wanna come on your cock,” he said breathlessly, watching Harry’s face change from something playful and winsome into something more predatory, dark.  

Sliding up Louis’ body, slithering over him with grabby hands and the press of his full, wet lips on every inch of skin he came into contact with, Harry brought their mouths together again.  His breath was hot and his hands were on Louis’ ass, pulling him apart, making Louis grind forward, chasing that part of Harry that he desperately needed. 

“Want that too.  Want you.  Wanna be inside you.”  Harry’s voice was rough and broken and to Louis, it sounded like he felt as crazed as Louis did.  

“Bed?”  Louis whined, because at that moment, Harry’s body curled around him so he could rub a dry finger over his hole, and  _ god _ . Louis was aching to be filled.  Filled with Harry — he wanted to feel him everywhere.  For days.  

Harry didn’t answer, he was too busy rolling his tongue around the shell of Louis’ ear and Louis felt desire skate up his spine.  “H — Harry...need...bed.”  He could barely form words and he was surprised at how shaky his own voice sounded.  If Harry sounded halfway to wrecked, Louis sounded positively lost to it.  Lost to the flood of arousal and emotion and heat.  

Lips were on his again, messy and unrelenting.  Harry kissed him like they were running out of time, like he didn’t know if he’d ever get this chance again.  Louis pulled away and was amazed to see how flushed Harry was and that his bright green eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.  “Harry?  Baby — are  you ok?”

Harry buried his face in Louis’ neck and Louis ran his hands down his back in long, sure strokes.  Harry groaned, “S — sorry.  I just…”

“What is it?”  Louis whispered into Harry’s hair.  

Leaning back so he could look down into Louis’ eyes, Harry whispered, “I just didn’t think I’d — we’d — ever get here.”

Harry’s words were more than what they seemed — Louis knew that.  He knew he was talking about the two of them, together, but also each of them separately. They had both been so close to being whole again, had both worked really hard to heal, and meeting each other had pushed them over the edge into a place where they could both be what the other needed.  It seemed implausible to Louis, as he realized in that moment that they’d gotten there so fast — when just a day ago everything had seemed so bleak.  

In that moment Louis was sure he could hear the sound of his own heart opening wide, and instead of feeling the vast emptiness that he was used to, that he thought belonged there, he felt full and light and a sense of peace he’d never known.  Slowly, he whispered back, “Me too.  But we’re here.  We made it.  

Harry smiled, soft and private, and Louis pulled his face down so they could kiss again.  This time it was calmer, more purposeful, as if they were both making promises into each other’s mouths.  Promises they knew they could keep, that they longed to keep.  

Louis cupped Harry’s face and kissed over his bottom lip and over his cheekbones.  “Bed?”

“Fuck yes,” Harry said, a trace of the frenzy from moments before creeping back into his voice.  Louis giggled, he liked knowing he could have that effect on Harry.

“Let me just send this to headquarters,” Harry whispered, stepping back from Louis, eyes never leaving his.  “I’ll meet you there?”

Louis nodded and turned, restraining himself from running like a little kid and flopping on his bed like it was the last day of school before summer vacation.  He walked — admittedly painfully slow — and pulled back the sheets on his bed.  He went across the hall and grabbed towels and lay them across the bed.  He was just pulling lube out of the bedside drawer when he felt Harry’s hands on his hips and the line of his bare cock in the cleft of his ass.  

“You scared me!”  He jumped, Harry catching him, holding him in place.

“Hm,” Harry hummed, attaching his mouth to the side of Louis’ neck, his wicked tongue tracing lines and shapes that almost brought Louis to his knees.  

“You lost your pants.”

“Hard to fuck you with clothes on.”  Louis could feel the grin against his neck, Harry moving over to the other side to give it the same attention.

“Speaking of…” Louis murmured, rolling his hips so his cheeks pressed Harry’s dick closer to his body.  “Is that gonna happen anytime soon, or…”

“Louis.”  Harry’s voice was suddenly very serious, too serious for the state they were in.  “What’s that?”

Louis followed the line of Harry’s finger that was pointing to the interior of Louis’ bedside table drawer.  “Wha —”

Oh fuck.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.”  Louis reached inside to move the few items around to hide the offending object.

“ _ Louis _ .”  Harry reached around him with his right hand, holding both of Louis’ arms flat to his sides with his left arm.  That show of brute strength and the fact that one of his arms could reach  _ all  _ the way around Louis shouldn’t have been as hot to Louis as it was, but...it really was.  

Harry pulled the item from the drawer, eliciting the most undignified noise Louis thought he’d ever heard himself make.  Louis closed his eyes and dropped his head back to Harry’s shoulder.  “ _ Harry… _ ” he whined.

“This is —”  Harry waved the object around with an exaggerated flourish.  “The biggest fucking dildo I have ever seen.”  

Louis giggled and turned in Harry’s arm, grabbing the toy in the process, part embarrassed, part wanting to push Harry a little.  “I like ‘em big, what can I say.”  He winked and in the dim light, the amber glow of the hall light casting a softness around the otherwise dark room, and watched Harry’s eyes grown darker.  

“Yeah?  You like ‘em big?”  

“Hm-hm.”  Louis licked over his lips and dropped the vibrant purple dildo behind Harry, the comical thud echoing through the quiet room.  

Harry arched his eyebrow and gave Louis’ ass a gentle smack, that made Louis embarrassedly squeak, precome dripping from the head of his cock.  

Harry ordered, “Bed. On your back.”

“Yes sir.”

Harry growled and crawled up over the top of him.  “Don’t give me ideas, Louis.”

“I like when you get ideas,” Louis challenged, spreading his legs, wide, inviting Harry in.  It was then that he got his first real eyeful of Harry’s cock, standing at attention, bobbing between his legs.  “Christ,” he breathed out.

Harry balanced on his knees, fisting himself loosely.  “Not like you haven’t seen it before.”  He smirked.

“Correction.  I haven’t  _ seen  _ it before.  I felt it, against my back and then in the dark last night.  But I haven’t seen it.”  

“Well?”  Harry bit his lips and Louis could see the way his abs contracted with every tug his large hand made over the head, foreskin inching back to show the glistening tip.  

“Well…”  Louis started out slowly, pulling Harry closer with his legs, locking his ankles behind his back, “I think…”  he scraped his teeth along Harry’s jaw line, ending with his earlobe, trapping it between his teeth.  He could feel Harry shudder as he eased himself further into Louis’ space, their cocks rubbing alongside one another deliciously.  Louis moaned, making Harry gasp as the noise traveled into the other man’s ear.  “I think I’m gonna feel that for days,” he finally panted, rocking up against Harry.

Harry groaned and rolled his hips forward as Louis rolled his own.  They found a rhythm quickly, but Louis stopped abruptly.  “ _ Harry _ ...need you.”  He wasn’t particularly proud of how fast he was getting there — he didn’t want to embarrass himself by coming before they even got started.

Harry chuckled and sat back up.  Louis couldn’t take his eyes off of Harry’s dick.  It was a monster.  He felt a little greedy, but a thrill ran through him thinking that he was getting  _ that  _ inside of him and soon.  And hopefully many, many times after that. 

He was getting ahead of himself. 

“Can I open you up?”  Harry asked earnestly.  

Louis giggled.  “Yes, please.”  So polite.  

Harry gave him a lopsided grin, his dimple showing, and fuck if that wasn’t the sexiest thing.  Louis had been ignoring his own throbbing cock up until this point but he couldn’t help but grab himself, squeezing at the base to give himself some relief.  

“Fucking hallelujah,” Harry said, and it  _ sounded _ like a prayer, as he leaned back down, propping himself up on one elbow, the other hand between Louis’ legs, fingers dripping with lube.  

Louis groaned and arched his back at the first touch of Harry’s fingertip to his hole.   He couldn’t believe they were doing this.  Harry was touching him.   _ There _ .  He felt anxious and excited and nearly crippled with need.

“H —  _ Harry _ .”  Louis moaned, and it sounded unbelievable to his ears.  He was hoarse with desire and there was a desperation in his voice that bordered on pornographic.  Harry groaned, trapping Louis’ mouth into another searing kiss.    

Harry pushed inside, up to his first knuckle, breaking the kiss with a coarse, “ _ Fuck _ .”

Louis widened his legs and exhaled, dragging the digit in further.  “Jesus  _ Harry  _ — need you,” he panted, biting his lip and arching his neck.  

Harry mouthed up the length of Louis’ throat as he pushed further in, wiggling around inside Louis’ body.  “You’re so...fucking tight.   _ Baby _ .”

Louis loved hearing Harry call him that.  It made him feel wanted, cared for.   _ Claimed _ .  It also made his cock twitch unabashedly in arousal.  

One finger became two and Harry kept it at two for an agonizingly long time.  “Harry,  _ please _ .”  Louis wasn’t above begging, not when Harry’s cock was leaking on his thigh and his mouth was hot and Louis’ dick was screaming for attention. 

“Ok, ok, I’ve got you,” Harry panted into Louis’ ear.  He curved his body and bent so he could wrap his lips around the head of Louis’ cock again.  Louis cried out, the feeling of that hot, wet heaven bringing tears to his eyes.

Harry sucked him, staying on the head, tonguing over his slit and driving a series of loud, unbidden noises from Louis’ mouth.  He tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair and felt his own legs shake from the effort it was taking to not fuck up into the hot heat of Harry’s mouth.  “Harry —  _ please, please, please.” _

Harry thrust both fingers in deep, Louis realizing that it wasn’t actually two, but three, and now Harry wasn’t fucking around, he was working to stretch Louis quickly, efficiently.  Louis writhed on the bed, needing, wanting,  _ dying _ for Harry’s cock, as Harry stretched him wide.

“Harry — gonna come soon…”  Louis was breathing heavy and he was nearly voiceless as he cautioned Harry.  

Suddenly, the lush wetness was gone from his dick and he felt achingly empty.  Harry had shimmied between his legs and was rolling on a condom.  “Louis — you’re.   _ Fuck _ .  You’re so beautiful.”  He paused to drink Louis in with his eyes and it made Louis blush furiously.  No one had ever said that to him before, made him feel like that before.  Harry  _ made _ him  _ feel _ beautiful.  

Louis rolled his hips up, feeling the coming euphoria like a phantom at the base of his spine.  He whined and closed his eyes, because watching Harry hover over him with that enormous cock of his was overwhelming.  He could feel his hole fluttering in anticipation, his whole body trembling with overwhelming need.

Then.  Harry was pushing in, barely popping his head inside Louis’ tight entrance and…

Taking Harry was  _ extraordinary _ .

It  _ hurt _ .  But in the way that made Louis know it would feel  _ amazing _ soon enough.  Harry held himself up in plank while Louis adjusted. He felt vulnerable, open, and so  _ desperate  _ he was shaking all over.  

“It’s ok, baby.  It’s ok.  I’ve got you,” Harry breathed into his mouth and Louis dragged his head closer so they could kiss.  

Harry kissed him deep and fervent, easing the hurt from him and replacing it with something that felt like tenderness,  _ emotion _ .  It was intimate.  Louis felt connected to Harry in so many more ways than just physically in that moment.  

Breaking their kiss Louis whispered, “Go slow, ok?”

“Slow, yeah.  I can do that baby.  Slow.”  Harry’s lips moved against his and he started to grind his hips forward in small, tight circles, his back arching and ass undulating in, in, in.  It made Louis see stars.  Harry was so  _ big _ — thick and long and touching everything inside of him that felt  _ good _ , sparks shooting up his spine and unraveling the very core of him.  

Throwing his head back and scratching down Harry’s back, Louis felt the burning stretch give way to a burning heat that was threatening to explode.  “I’m good —  _ Harry _ — God, I’m good.”  

Harry grunted and shifted, changing the angle so he could start fucking into Louis in short shallow thrusts.  Louis lifted his heels to the bed and worked to meet him thrust for thrust.  The change in angle was  _ magnificent _ .  

“Fuck, Harry.  Yes,  _ god _ .  Feels so good.”  Louis started to feel only pleasure, a feathery white kaleidoscope building behind his eyes.  He wanted to come —  _ needed _ to come.  Fuck, he needed to come on Harry’s cock from the minute he first met him.

“So tight, Lou.  _ God _ . You...feel...like heaven.”  Harry’s hips started punching forward in fluid bursts, making Louis exhale loudly with every slap of Harry’s hips to his backside.  It was getting rougher and harder and Louis was helpless to it, holding on to Harry as he pounded into him.

“ _ Harry _ ...need —” 

“What baby?  What do you need?”  Harry searched Louis’ eyes and without Louis even telling him, Harry hauled Louis’ legs up over his shoulders and started slamming into him, harder and harder until Louis was crying out, swearing, and moaning — it was mind numbingly good and dirty and fast and just —  _ wild _ . .  

His release was hurtling forward, and Louis could cry it felt so good.  “F — fill me up Harry.  Wanna feel you come inside me.”  

Harry moaned and doubled his efforts, his skin shiny with sweat, muscles bulging until he pushed in hard and deep, stilling and crying out, “ _ Fuck _ !”

Louis could feel Harry pulsing inside of him, inside the condom, as he locked eyes with Louis.  And that’s what pushed Louis over the edge.  The intimacy of watching Harry come apart, buried inside of Louis, every inch of their bodies touching, their souls fused together in that moment — united, whole, complete.  

It was everything Louis wanted.  

And so much more.  


	8. Chapter 8

Louis startled awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body.  His mind was sleep fuzzy when he realized what had woken him up.  He heard a crash and then a thud and what sounded like a groan.  Fear ripped through him, icy and sudden.  Harry was there — to protect him. 

“Harry!”  He whispered urgently, slapping the mattress next to him.  

It was cold.  And empty.  

“Fuck,” he whispered, frantically dropping to the floor and looking around for something to put on. 

They’d fallen asleep almost immediately after Harry pulled out and they’d exchanged a few kisses and whispered words of adoration.  Louis dropped into unconsciousness with a huge grin on his face.  He felt calm and loose — in the way that good sex can make you feel.  But more than that he felt deliriously happy.  Content.  With Harry’s arms around him he felt like he could face the world.  

“What do you want with him?”  

Louis could hear Harry roar from the living room.  The anger and fear in his voice drove icy pinpricks up his spine .  He threw on a pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt he found on the floor as quickly as he could and searched for a weapon, grabbing the closest thing he could find.    

Racing out of the bedroom he saw something he never thought he’d see in his lifetime.  

Harry was rolling around on the floor, fist fighting with…

Liam.

Louis’ Liam.  

“Liam?”  Louis shouted in complete shock, his brain not fully processing the scene in front of him.  Why was his best friend and roommate fighting with Harry, of all people, in the middle of the night in their living room?

Liam.  Who would never hurt a fly.  Who was a vegetarian, for Christ sake.  

“Liam!”  Louis shouted again, this time louder, more intent on getting his attention.  

Harry scrambled upright, Liam following suit.  “Louis!  Get down!”

Louis just stood there, dumbly, still staring at the two men he cared for most in the world.  Fighting.  Like school kids on the playground.  “Louis!”  Harry growled, making the hair on the back of Louis’ neck stand up.  Suddenly, he could feel danger in the air all around them and without really thinking about it he realized it was coming from Liam.  At this angle, Louis could see that Liam’s face was contorted into an expression of pure rage.  He was fixated on one thing and one thing only — punching Harry’s face into smithereens.  

Harry knocked Liam to the ground and Liam shot a leg out and pulled Harry down with him.  Both men were moving so fast Louis was having a hard time figuring out who was getting the worst of it, but what he did know is that he had to put a stop to it.  

“Goddamn it Harry!  Stop!  Stop it!”  He shrieked, ready to jump in the fray if they didn’t stop.  

Harry looked up at Louis and met his eyes and for brief moment Louis could see that he was trying to tell him something — something vastly important but it was lost on Louis, he couldn’t make sense of anything.  

Liam took the moment to get the upper hand.

Harry was flipped to his back, the floor shaking from the impact, and Liam pressed a meaty arm to his windpipe.  Harry’s face turned red and he choked.  Louis stalked forward and Harry started waving his arms wildly, a raspy sound coming out of his throat.  

“Liam!  What the fuck?”  Louis was reaching down to shove Liam off of his...boyfriend?  Were they boyfriends?  Shit, Louis didn’t know, but he hoped so.  He pushed the self-absorbed thoughts away and reached out to shove Liam off when he saw Harry’s face explode in panic.

“N--noooooo!  Louis!”  Liam pushed harder on Harry’s neck and Harry wheezed, “KGB.  KGB.”

Louis stopped and felt his mouth open.  What?  KG… “What?”

Liam didn’t look up and Harry looked like he was about to pass out and Louis was about to lose his mind because what the fuck was happening?

Suddenly, the front door burst open and Sophia stormed in.  Holding a gun.  A small black pistol that was aimed directly at Louis’ head.  He glanced down at Harry, the action taking only milliseconds and he saw Harry’s eyes dimming — the light behind them was actually dimming.  

But then, Harry’s eyes shifted to the left.  It was a small, barely noticeable action but Louis saw it.  He saw it and tracked it and there was a gun.  A larger silver pistol, larger than the one Sophia was currently cocking (or whatever it is you do with guns — Louis had no idea but he heard that telltale click that always comes in movies before someone gets shot right between the eyes). Sophia’s gun went off as Louis dove for the gun on the floor, grabbing it quickly with his free hand — because he suddenly realized he had the fucking giant dildo in his other hand (what?  Was that what he had grabbed in his room? What had he been thinking? That he was going to fuck the bad guys to death?) –– and he aimed and pulled the trigger. 

Several things happened in quick succession.  

Sophia flew backwards, the impact of the bullet Louis sent her way hitting her in the shoulder and knocking her into the wall, making her drop her own gun.  Liam shouted _ “Sophia!” _ , releasing Harry and crawling toward the unconscious woman on the floor, who was groaning in pain.  Harry regained his strength remarkably fast and rolled over as he grabbed Liam’s ankle, pulling him closer.  Liam kicked Harry, hard, and stood up.  Harry stood up, clutching his ribs, and Louis watched in horror as Liam started to lunge for him — for  _ Louis _ .  

Louis was frozen in terror because he just  _ shot someone _ .  Sophia — Liam’s wife?  He had no clue what was real anymore and what wasn’t and who was telling the truth but one thing was for sure.  There was a violent malice in that man’s eyes and that wasn’t  _ Louis’  _ Liam.  That wasn’t the Liam who went to the market to pick up saltine crackers when Louis was sick and it wasn’t the Liam who hugged him until he cried himself to sleep over Josh and it sure as hell wasn’t the Liam that he had lived with for the past three years.

This Liam was a living breathing embodiment of fury — it was crawling over his skin and distorting his face into a grotesque mask of complete and total hatred.  He was vibrating with ugly rage and Louis was terrified.  

“L — Liam?”  

He didn’t get to finish his thought because Harry jumped into Liam’s path and connected his right fist with Liam’s jaw.  There was a sickening crack and Liam fell to the ground like a dead weight.  Harry fell too, holding Liam down, although from the looks of it Liam wouldn’t be moving anytime soon.  

“I need some rope — something to tie him up with,” Harry barked.  

Again, Louis couldn’t get his feet to move.  He was shocked.  He knew he was crying, tears dampening the front of his t-shirt but he couldn’t move — he couldn’t understand what had just happened, what was happening.  

“Louis!  Rope!”  Harry ordered.  

Louis reacted to the tone of Harry’s voice.  He raced toward his room, mind racing.   _ Rope, rope, rope. _

What the fuck?  Where was he supposed to get rope?  He was a math teacher not a mountain climber.  He started opening drawers and flinging things all over the room until he finally found a drawer full of abandoned neck ties.  He grabbed a handful and raced back to the living room.  It was then that he realized he was still holding the gun.  

“Fuck!” Louis threw the gun down, the offending object skittering along the hardwood floor and stopping at Harry’s feet. 

“Louis!”  Harry threw a hand up, the other splayed across Liam’s chest, ready to restrain him if the other man regained consciousness.  

“Oh!   _ Oh _ !”  Louis tossed the ties to him, a colorful array of silken material like a rainbow between them.  

Harry started to tie up Liam’s hands, roughly shoving him over so he could tie them behind his back, when Louis finally could form words.  “What the hell just happened Harry?”

“Liam was trying to get the formula.”

“What?”

“I woke up to get a glass of water and came to the kitchen and found Liam at the computer, downloading the formula into a de-encryption drive.”

Louis shook his head.  No way.  Not Liam.  “Wha — ?”

“I surprised him.  He attacked me.”  Harry finished tying Liam up, the other man groaning and rolling his head.  Louis felt fresh tears spring to his eyes and he whimpered.  How could this be?  “Louis.”

Louis looked down at Harry, watching him as he rose to his feet.  He approached Louis steadily, his eyes never leaving Louis’.  Louis felt unsure.  He wanted to back away, stay away from Harry until he could think — until he could breathe again.  He shook his head.  “No, no.  Not Liam.”

“Louis.  Listen to me.”  Harry’s hands gripped Louis’ biceps, firm but gentle, the action grounding.  “He spoke in Russian.  He talked into an earpiece.   _ In Russian _ .” 

Louis shook his head again.  He didn’t...this didn’t make any sense.  He looked down at Liam and could see that he was awake, watching them, a small black device cradled in his ear.  “Liam?” He whispered.

“Lou — Lou.  Don’t listen to him.  He —”  Liam pleaded from the ground.  “He’s lying.  You know I’d never —” 

“Shut up!”  Harry ordered, kicking Liam in the ribcage, driving a pained groan from him.  Liam curled into himself, making Louis gasp.  

“Harry!”  Louis rushed toward Liam, intending to undo his ties.  This had to be a misunderstanding.  It  _ had  _ to be.  

Harry blocked him, putting his face right in the line of Louis’ vision.  “Louis.  Listen to me.  He’s undercover.  He’s part of the group we’ve been looking for.  He had direct access to all of your files.   _ All  _ of your work.  Louis.  Think about it.” 

Louis looked from Harry’s intense gaze down to Liam who was groaning and rolling around on the floor, then back at Harry, helpless to the confusion that was clouding his vision.  “I — “

“He’s been stealing your stuff for months, Lou.  Years probably.”  Harry was looking at Louis so intently, so seriously, Louis found himself trapped.  

“I can’t — “  Louis couldn’t wrap his mind around it.  

Out of the corner of his eye Louis saw a flash of movement and he screamed “Harry!”

In an instant, Sophia was up and diving for her gun, still on the floor halfway between where harry stood and where she had fallen.  Her olive green overcoat was drenched in blackish maroon blood, her beautiful face smeared with it as well.  She wasn’t moving very quickly, but she was moving.  

Harry leaped forward, going for the gun and reaching it first.  Louis was holding his breath as he watched Harry kick it backward, toward Louis, as Sophia lurched toward Harry.  Louis’ instinct was to go for the gun, get it out of danger’s way, but he was stalled by yet another movement in his periphery.  He turned, and as if in slow motion, he saw Liam standing, arms freed from the slippery neckties, with Harry’s discarded gun in his hand.

In the back of Louis’ mind he thought  _ there’s too many fucking guns in here. _

He watched Liam, in obvious pain from getting pummeled by Harry, raise his arms and point the barrel of the silver pistol at the back of Harry’s head.  Louis reached frantically for the gun Harry had kicked his way, swiping it up in one smooth movement, unsure of what he was going to do with it.

Everything around Louis stilled.  There was no sound, no air, no thought.  There was only the hard facts in front of him.  Liam had a gun and was pointing it at Harry.  Liam had been at Louis’ computer downloading something in the middle of the night.  Harry said Liam had attacked him.  Harry had told him there would be no more secrets between them.   _ No secrets. _

Flashes of Harry from hours earlier scrolled through Louis’ mind so rapidly Louis didn’t really register them.  He saw Harry looking at him, deep inside of him, eyes brimming with so much affection and honesty and  _ trust _ .  He felt the way Harry’s hands burned into his skin and the way he was careful with him when Louis needed him to be and not so careful when Louis wanted that instead.  He felt the way their hearts beat together as they lay in bed, falling asleep.  Falling in love.

Liam cocked the gun and Harry whirled around, still fighting Sophia — trying to restrain her.  

Louis had to make a choice.  He had to choose between love and trust, friendship and lies, his past and future.  He had to choose between what he thought he knew and what he was only just learning about.  

He had to choose between Liam and Harry.

The sound of gunfire — just one shot — was deafening and definitive.  Like a gauntlet, the final decision...immediate.  Absolute. 

Liam fell to the ground, bright crimson blooming across his chest like a funeral rose.  With him, Louis fell to his knees, dropping Sophia’s gun, suddenly too heavy to hold — the weight of it too much to bear.

“Elum!”  Sophia yelled and raced toward the body on the floor.  Harry stopped her with an arm to the neck and she fell.  This time Harry didn’t look like he was taking chances, hauling her body to the nearest chair and grabbing the scattered neckties to restrain her.

Louis was shaking and he thought he might be sick.  He closed his eyes trying to block out what happened.  He wasn’t even sure what really did happen.  All he knew was that there was a spreading pool of blood on his living room floor and nothing, nothing that he knew, was as it seemed.  

He didn’t realize he was sobbing until he felt strong arms around him and heard Harry’s deep comforting timbre in his ear.  “Shhh.  I’ve got you.  It’s over.  It’s over.”

Louis didn’t say anything.  He couldn’t.  All he could do was hope he’d made the right decision.

***

It was hours until Louis saw Harry again.  With terrifying speed, Louis’ apartment filled with serious, rough looking men and women who talked in hushed tones to Harry and looked at Louis warily, and sometimes, sympathetically.  Louis shivered on the sofa with a blanket around him and at some point someone pressed a cup of tea into his hands.  He thought it was Harry, but he couldn’t be sure.

After that they were ushered into separate white vans with blackout windows that reeked of government.  Louis passed in and out of consciousness, although he felt awake for all of it; the pain of what he did stabbing him in the heart over and over again like a nightmare he couldn’t get out of.  He heard people around him saying things like “he’s in shock” and “his roommate” and “fuck, can’t believe Styles got ‘em”.

All Louis could think of was  _ my whole adult life has been a fucking lie. _

He was taken into a sterile looking room inside a nondescript building in the middle of downtown.  The building was in the middle of a very common looking block with very common looking buildings that blended into the skyscrapers of Chicago.  The entrance to the floor Louis was taken into, by elevator, was at the back of a dark parking garage, through an unmarked door.  He was escorted by what he assumed to be NSA agents, but he had no idea.  They might have been taking him to his death, and Louis really didn’t care.  He felt numb.  Completely devoid of any feeling. 

Liam was dead.  His best friend was dead.  And he had killed him.

The room he was waiting in was presently empty, aside from Louis.  He had been looked over by a doctor, at least she said she was a doctor, but apparently people in Louis’ life lied compulsively, so who knew?  Louis was staring at a gleaming white wall across from him and thought it wouldn’t have hurt them to put up a few pictures.  Maybe a still life of some fruit or a vase of flowers.  Hell, even a smear of color across a canvas would be better than the blank whiteness he was surrounded by.  It gave his mind too much room to think.  

Liam wasn’t who he said he was.  He’d been lying.  He was a cyber terrorist.  

The door swung open and a familiar face appeared in the doorway.  

“Dr.  Grimshaw?”  Louis squawked.  

Grimshaw entered the room, his mouth curved in an oily smile.  Louis felt something curdle inside his stomach — fear, disgust.  Distrust.  “What are you doing here?” He demanded.

The other man sat across from Louis, folding his long legs to the side, crossing one over the other.  Instead of his usual academic looking clothing of a sweater, blazer and worn jeans, the Dean was wearing a drab gray suit that, actually fit with the decor of the place perfectly.  

“Mr. Tomlinson, do you know where you are?”

Louis stared at him, still trying to figure out what his  _ dean _ , of all people, was doing there.  “No clue.”

Grimshaw wrinkled his nose and rubbed a hand across his smug face.  “You are at NSA headquarters in Chicago.”

“Hm-hm.”  Louis hummed.  Sure, Jan.  “And what are you doing here,  _ Dean Grimshaw _ ?”

“I’m an agent.  NSA,” Grimshaw stated, almost like he was talking about the weather — or Louis’ fucking tenure that he had turned down.  What the fuck?  “This is a top secret location that you’ve been brought to until we...uh...figure out what to do with you.”

“You could kill me.”  Louis said nonchalantly.  

Grimshaw smirked.  “We most definitely aren’t going to kill you Louis.”  His voice had softened and Louis noticed he looked tired,  _ exhausted _ .  

Louis felt himself start to thaw a bit, the fugue he’d been in slipping off his shoulders like an afghan.  “What are you going to do with me?”

“Well, that remains to be seen, Louis.  It also depends on you.”

Louis’ head snapped up, exhausted aggravation making way for confusion.  “What do you mean?”

“Agent Styles has made a case for you to go into witness protection.  He thinks that it would be best for you to be put under government protection.”

Louis studied the other man carefully.  The searing pain in his chest was still there, sharp and insistent, but Louis was starting to feel a familiar sense of uncertainty ease its way alongside the ache.  “He...he does?”  Louis was trying to figure out if government protection meant Harry was trying to get rid of him, or if he was just trying to ensure his safety.

Just then Louis could hear shouting coming from the hallway.  He recognized Harry’s voice immediately.  He stood up quickly, his chair flying out from behind him.  Grimshaw was in his face in a second.  “Whoa.  Hold on, hold on Louis.”  

“Get the fuck off of me!”  Louis yelled, shoving the agent away.  It was no use, Grimshaw was bigger, stronger and he hadn't been through hell and back over the past few hours.  He held Louis in place.  

Harry stormed in the room then, his face an angry red, jaw bruised and his left eye an ugly purple and nearly closed.  “Louis!”  

Grimshaw had the good sense to move, lest he get his head ripped off — Harry looked that angry.  

“Harry!”  

They collided into each other, Harry’s big arms warm and safe, making Louis feel like he could finally breathe again.  “I was…”

Harry shushed him, peppering his face with kisses, holding his face in his hands, checking over his face and body intently.  “Are you ok?   _ Louis _ .  Are you ok?”  He was frantic, voice shaking and his one good eye brimming with tears.

“Yeah.  Yeah.  I’m fine.   _ Harry _ .  What’s happening? What is  _ he _ doing here?”  Louis let go of Harry but only so he could see him more clearly, still holding his hands tightly in his own, nodding at Grimshaw as he spoke.  

Harry shot Grimshaw a furious glare.  “This asshole was sent in to keep an eye on me.”

Louis looked at the other agent and saw the impassive look on his face.  “What?”

Grimshaw spoke up, “We felt Agent Styles was a loose cannon.  He needed close monitoring.   I went in to ensure he was doing his job and not just...”

“Fucking the target,” Harry finished, shooting a deadly scowl toward the other man.

Louis inhaled a shaky breath.  What the hell?  “A...a loose cannon?   _ What _ ?”

“Because of my last case, Louis.  Alex.”  Harry whispered, shame coloring his tone, making Louis bristle at the fact that these absolute pricks could make Harry feel like that.  

“Fuck you Grimshaw — or whatever your name is,” Louis spat.  “Harry’s a better goddamn agent than you ever could be”.  Sure, Louis didn’t have much to base this regal opinion upon, but sometimes you just know these things.  At least that’s what Louis was telling himself.  

Harry smirked and pulled Louis under his arm.  “Doesn’t matter anyway.  Grimshaw couldn’t get any closer to the truth than I did.  He couldn’t figure out how to apply your formulas — despite practically stealing them from you right under our noses,” Harry bit out, muttering  _ dumbass _ under his breath.  “It was you Louis.  You were the one who solved the case.”

“I — I didn’t do anything,” Louis said, unbelieving.  He didn’t.  He just plugged a few numbers into a computer and reversed the damage he’d already done.

Grimshaw exhaled and stared the two of them down.  “That’s where you’re wrong Louis.  You brought us closer to bringing down this whole cell. Sofochka Sokolovis, Sophia,  is on the FBI’s most wanted and she’s singin’ like a canary right now.  Apparently she and Elum Stepanov, who you knew as Liam, were trained by the KGB as children to become operatives in the United States.  They moved here as teenagers under the cover of foreign exchange students.”

“God,” Louis breathed out, not even sure where to begin.  It was still endlessly confounding that Liam was a Russian spy.  Russian.  Louis had never seen the kid so much as look at a bottle of vodka — it was unbelievable.

“She’s got nothin’ but hate for the monsters that put her here,”  Grimshaw continued, “That’s why she and Stepanov joined the radical cell they were working with — to put some distance between her and the mother land.  Of course, it backfired when the Russian government got a hold of their intelligence, using it to their advantage.”

“Trump?”  Harry questioned, already ahead of Louis.

“Trump,” Grimshaw confirmed.  “With Sofochka’s help we’re going to make sure he never gets elected.”

The room was quiet as the two of them let everything sink in.  “The country owes you Louis.”  Grimshaw’s voice was serious, solemn.  “Both of you.”  He looked at Harry, giving him a curt nod.  “I guess we owe you an apology, Agent Styles.”

“Yeah, you fucking do.”  Harry growled.

Grimshaw leveled him with stern look.  “Well, you don’t exactly have the best track record, Styles.”

“You assholes could have told me you knew about Alex.”  Harry’s voice was brimming with anger, but there was a tremor to it that had Louis inching closer to him, wanting to comfort him, let him know that he was there for him.

“You’re a good agent, Harry.  You just don’t make the best decisions sometimes.  You — you redeemed yourself with this case.”

Louis’s mind was reeling when he asked, “The conference?”

“We knew you were a target Louis, that’s why I went with — I eliminated the threat and we thought you were safe.  Until yesterday.  That’s why I was in your office last night — to check your files — we had some new intel that indicated you were being targeted again.”  Harry said softly, looking down into Louis’ eyes, tenderness and affection coloring the green, along with a fierce protectiveness.

“Plus I needed to ensure Styles here could handle the pressure, of being with someone he was attracted to  _ and _ assigned to protect.”  Nick’s voice was so fucking calm it made Louis want to scream.  This was  _ his life  _ they were talking about.  He kept quiet though, not entirely sure what kind of power Grimshaw over Harry and his job, not wanting to make it any worse than it already was.

When it became clear there wasn’t much more to say, Grimshaw left, leaving the two of them alone.  

Louis looked up at Harry, turning in his arms so he could wrap himself in Harry’s embrace.  “So.  What’s happens now?”  He was uncertain, the prospect of witness protection on the table — and with that, he was sure, the fact that he’d probably never get to see Harry again, or his family, or anyone else in his life that mattered.  The future unclear but for the first time in Louis’ life he wasn’t afraid about what was around the corner.  He had a feeling that he would be alright.

“Lou…” Harry whispered, his voice breaking, another emotion besides agitation crossing his beautiful face.  He looked awe stricken.  Grateful and powerless to the amazement that took over his voice.  He looked deep into Louis’ eyes.  “You saved me.”

Louis bit his lip and wiped more tears away, the gravity of the entire night, the entire past few months,  _ years  _ settling inside of him like some kind of apparition.  He took a deep breath and met Harry’s gaze.  “I  _ chose  _ you,” he corrected.  

Harry inhaled sharply.  “Yeah.  You did.”

“If you — if you decide to go into protection, things will change.”  Harry continued.

“I was afraid of that,” Louis murmured.  

Harry pulled Louis closer and pressed their lips together, the softness, the  _ gentleness _ , of it the first step in making Louis whole again.  Harry backed away and searched Louis’ eyes until they could only see, feel and understand each other.  

“I — Harry.”  

“I know babe.  I know.  I would give up everything, you know?”  His eyes searched Louis’ and he said, strongly, with more conviction that Louis thought possible, “I choose you.”

Louis thought, then, that the decision was actually a very easy one to make.  It was probably the easiest decision he’d ever make in his whole life.  He leaned in, pulling Harry’s mouth down to his again, feeling a lightness settle in his bones, the entire world narrowed down to the man in his arms and the taste of forever on his lips


	9. Epilogue

“Babe, do you want another?”

Louis stretched his toes, delighting in the way the sun warmed them and the dried sand fluttered off his feet like butterflies in a meadow.  “Nah.  ‘M good.”

Louis could hear Harry enter the attached cabana, his warmth covering Louis’ body just like the rays of the sun.  

“Wanna…?”  Louis opened his eyes and saw Harry looming over him, wiggling his eyebrows comically.  

“Again?”  He asked, incredulously, his lower half a bit...sore from earlier.  Despite the soreness he could feel a goofy smile taking over his face.  Harry was just _so cute_.  

“We _are_ on our honeymoon.”  Harry grinned.

“Honeymoon.”  Louis scoffed.  They really weren’t on their honeymoon, but their cover was recently married couple on vacation in Jamaica.

“Come on...husband.”  Harry eased away from Louis, backing up into the small, but luxurious, private beachfront bungalow that was theirs for the week.

Louis couldn’t help it but his cock perked up at the word _husband_ .  It did things to him.   _Harry_ did things to him.  All kinds of things.

Harry was in danger of hurting himself, walking backward like that, so Louis, of course, took pity on him.  He pushed himself up and off of the lounge chair and followed him into their room.  The windows were all open, letting in the fresh freesia scented ocean breeze and Louis could see nothing for miles except blue, blue water and white sand.  It was paradise.  

“Say it again.”  Louis murmured, pulling the taller man to him, relishing in the way their bodies just fit together.  

Harry licked his lips, sliding his hands possessively over Louis’ ass, giving it a rough squeeze.  Louis’ cock was definitely interested in another round, especially with the way Harry’s eyes were dark and looking at him like he wanted to eat him alive.  

“ _Husband_.”

“Fuck, that sounds good.”  Louis licked into Harry’s mouth, tasting the sweet cucumber melon cocktails they’d been sipping all afternoon and the heat of the intent behind the kiss.  Harry’s mouth was wet and lush and probably the most amazing thing Louis had ever had the pleasure of ravaging.

“Gonna make it real someday.”  Harry’s voice was deep and husky.  Louis never tired of it.

“Yeah?  Gonna make an honest man out of me?”  Louis bit Harry’s bottom lip gently, pushing his swim trunks down over the swell of his bottom.

Harry wriggled all the way out of his shorts, pulling Louis’ down to his ankles as well.  “Hm-mm.”  Harry was dazed now, all sex stupid and tipsy from the sun and alcohol.  He always got a little submissive and pliant when he was like this.  

Louis _adored_ him.

“Get the stuff.  I’m on top.”  Louis ordered, watching the way Harry’s cock twitched as he ordered him around.  

“Yeah.   _Yeah_ ,” Harry said dreamily, gliding over to their temporary dresser, digging around for condoms — the lube was still on the nightstand.  

It had been almost a year since they’d officially met.  Officially, meaning, met each other with nothing between them.  No secrets.  No lies.  A year since Liam bled out on their living room floor.

A year since Louis’ life changed forever.

After a lot of late nights, talking over cups of tea and bottles of wine, falling into each other’s arms, Louis decided he didn’t want to go into witness protection.  As much as it surprised Louis, he found himself intrigued by Harry’s work.  The more they talked, and discovered about one another, in just a few short weeks while living in Harry’s NSA furnished apartment, Louis found himself imagining himself in that life, right alongside Harry.  So, he broached the subject.  

“What does a civilian do if they want to become an agent?”  Louis had asked one night while their bodies were cooling and the room still smelled of sex and the intoxicating mix of their shared pheromones.

Harry’s hand had stilled its path along Louis’ forearm and he stared at him in the dark.  Louis could see the brightness in his eyes, so much less haunted than they’d looked when he’d first met him.  “Well...they’d have to go through some testing — psychological, physical.  And then they’d have to go through some training, depending upon their division.  Of course there’s crazy background checks, medical exams…”

“Hm.”  Louis had hummed, wriggling closer to Harry, stealing his blanket inch by inch.  Louis was always colder, Harry like an eternal furnace.

“Louis…”  Harry drawled, pulling back so he could look at Louis, forcing him to meet his eyes.  “What are you thinking?”  His voice was tentative, with a bit of a warning behind it.  

“Well…”  he started out slow, piecing together his thoughts.  “I’ve just been thinking...I’ve sort of proven that I have a certain skill set, right?  Grimshaw — and you — said I was important to the case, right?”  

Harry nodded his head, so Louis continued.  “Right.  And, like.  I know too much.  So, the agency is in a hard place.  Why don’t I — I mean.  I could become an agent,” he rushed out, continuing quickly, “We could like…”  he looked everywhere but in Harry’s eyes.  “We could be partners,” he said, quietly, hoping Harry wouldn’t laugh at him for being ridiculous.

It was quiet for a long moment before Harry finally spoke.  “You know...that’s actually kind of…”  He rolled them over, so he was on top of Louis, squishing him but Louis couldn’t care less, especially since Harry looked like he was going to kiss him again.  In _that_ way.  “That’s kind of perfect,” he’d said.  

And that had been that.  They’d convinced the higher ups and it was a done deal.

Louis agonized over his testing, eventually passing what he needed to, and then he had started training.  It was grueling — the hardest thing he’d ever done — but in the end he persevered and within six months he was in the field.  With Harry at his side.  They did a few quick jobs— in and out, mostly Louis hacking into some computer or server somewhere, Harry standing guard or whispering suggestions through a dark room, but they were together.  Louis loved it.  

Senior Agent Grimshaw had been promoted to Director after the Election Case. With the new title came a growing respect between the three men, leading up to the newly appointed Director approaching Agents Styles and Tomlinson about a bigger case: taking down an international gemstone black market using its profits to finance a human trafficking network in the U.S.  Luckily for the NSA, Louis knew a little something about inventory tracking formulas and they were in.  

“How do you want me?”  Harry’s gruff voice broke Louis out of his daydream.  

His boyfriend — fiance?  — was on all fours, looking over his shoulder at him.  “ _Fuck_ ,” Louis breathed out, disbelief in his voice because this was actually his life.  A job he loved and a man like _that_ in his bed.  He was so fucking lucky.  “Just like that,” he said, walking over to the large bed, crawling up behind Harry.  

Harry hummed and pushed himself backward, presenting himself to Louis like a gift.  And what  a gift he was.  Louis’ cock was practically singing between his legs, eager to bury itself inside the miraculous wet heat of Harry.  

Harry slid the bottle of lube backwards toward Louis and Louis took it in his hand, coating his fingers liberally.  “Can’t get enough of you, Harry,” he whispered.  

He’d learned to tell Harry often how much he cared for him, _felt_ about him.  Life was short and unpredictable.  Louis knew that now.  He wasn’t letting anything pass him by again.  

Harry groaned and stretched out like a cat over the rumpled sheets.  “Shh.  Gonna open you up, yeah babe?  Get you ready?  Then I’m gonna fuck you just how you like it.  Slow and deep, right babe?”

Harry shuddered, his hole moving right along with the rest of his body.  So pretty.  If Louis weren’t so eager to get inside of him, he would bury his face in that perfect ass of Harry’s.  He slipped one fingertip inside of Harry, the other man’s body tight and resistant.  

“Come on sweetheart.  Let me in,” Louis cajoled, leaning over Harry’s body so he could plaster his front to Harry’s back.  

Harry moaned, loud and deep — he was so _noisy_ in bed — falling down to his forearms, as he relaxed himself so Louis could push all the way in.  

 _God_ .  Harry was so tight and hot and just _everything_.  Louis couldn’t believe he was his.  

“Need you,” Harry slurred, his hips already moving, fucking back on to Louis’ finger.  

“I know babe.  I know.  Want you so bad.  Always want you,” Louis kissed over the wings of Harry’s sharp shoulder blades, finger fucking him deep and slow — just like he was planning on doing with his cock — Louis’ body already taut and needing release.  Harry pulled him in, all velvety smooth and soft, searing heat; Louis luxuriating in it for a moment, until Harry’s deep growl prodded him to move things along.

Louis was able to squeeze in another finger, loosening Harry up to take him — adding a third finger when Harry was ready.  Harry was writhing on the bed, swearing and breathing heavy.  He loved to get off just like this, stuffed full of Louis’ fingers, Louis’ hot breath on his back, teeth digging into the skin of Harry’s lower back.  But Louis had other plans.  

Once he was sure Harry was open enough, Louis slipped his fingers out of his clenching body.  Harry whined and thumped his head on the mattress.  “Lou…” he groaned.

“Shh.  On your back, darling.  Wanna see you.”  

While Harry turned and and flipped to his back, Louis wiped his hand off on the sheets.  He’d have to remember to tip the housekeeping staff generously.  He opened one of the condoms, noticing Harry had brought three to the bed.  Ambitious.  Sliding the condom over his length, Louis felt heat ignite at the base of his spine.  Soon.  Soon he’d be inside his love, well on his way to mind-numbing release.  It couldn’t come fast enough.  

Harry was on his back, cheeks flushed and hair sweaty, matted to the side of his face.  His lips were bright ruby red and his eyes were glazed over.  Louis loved seeing him like this.  He was usually a control freak, making Louis a little crazy sometimes.  But like this, in the heat of the moment, when he was all laid out before Louis, legs open, breathing heavy, open and waiting for Louis to just take him...like this he was _ravishing_.  And he was all Louis’.

“Harry…”  Louis crawled between Harry’s long legs, spread wide in invitation.  “Harry, I love you so much.”  He felt his heart flutter at the words.  The feeling still so new, so foreign, to be in love with someone so deeply, so completely, that the words really weren’t enough to describe it.     

Harry smiled sweetly and pulled Louis on top of him, grinding their hard cocks together, dragging a ragged moan out of Louis.  “Love you too.”  He kissed Louis heatedly, all open mouth and warm breath and pained moans.  “Now fuck me,” He whispered, before tacking on a considerate, “ _Please_.”

Louis chuckled, chest filling with joy and euphoria because Harry was _his_.  

Like always, Harry was incredible.  Hot, tight.  Responsive, pulling Louis in, in, in.  Dragging out Louis’ name in a broken moan, deep and harsh.  He never wanted time to adjust, wanted Louis to fuck him as soon as he breached his hole, so Louis did.  He drove his cock deep inside of Harry, grunting loudly in unbridled pleasure.  Harry clenched around him, impossibly tight and impossibly perfect.

“Louis!” He cried out, already moving his hips, feet on the bed, ass rising up and off the mattress rhythmically.  

It always caught Louis by surprise, how quick it went — how fast Harry wanted it.   _Fast_ wasn’t the right word for it though, _immediate_ was more like it.  But Louis caught up, like he always did, and ground his hips in _deep_ , pushing hard and slow inside of Harry, making him moan repeatedly, almost like it were a recording on replay but it was the most delicious sound to Louis’ ears

“Fuck, yes.  Louis.  Just like that.  Fuck me so good.”  Harry’s voice was endless, deep and hoarse, as he babbled, spurring Louis on.

Louis moved his cock inside of Harry expertly, finally zoning in on that spot that had Harry keening.  He propped himself up, feeling Harry’s hands hold his ass in place so he couldn’t pull out too deep, Harry always wanting him close, close, close.  Louis watched Harry’s eyes close tight, his mouth open with moans spilling out like tap water.  He was so fucking gorgeous like this.  

As Louis pumped deeper still, he made sure his stomach rubbed just right against Harry’s cock.  He was fighting to hold his own orgasm off because seeing Harry come was usually enough to set him off.  

“Fuck!   _Louis_ !”  And then, like some kind of magical switch flipped, Harry was spurting between them, clenching, _hard_ , around Louis’ dick.  

And that was it.  Louis shouted Harry’s name and was spilling into the condom.  

Like always, it was hot and good and so, so unlike anything Louis could even begin to describe.

Tomorrow they would start their new case, traveling to the other side of the island to pose as tourists at the mining museum.  Then, with any luck, Louis would get into one of the back rooms where the server was, moving them closer to their target.

But for now, Louis was content to fall into Harry’s arms, panting and spent, and so completely over the moon with how unexpectedly perfect his life had become.  As they drifted in and out of sleep, Louis wondered about how, when his life had seemed like such a straight line before, he had thought he was happy, content.    

He’d had no idea.  

Crossing that line had been the best decision of his life.  

Crossing it with Harry wasn’t really a choice.  It was meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Additional tags: NSA, spies, cyber terrorism, russian spies/terrorists. Some of this was loosely inspired by the show "The Americans" while the rest of it just came from the deep recesses of my brain. I do not mean to offend anyone with this work--least of all any of my Russian friends/readers. Please know this is completely a work of fiction and does not depict my true feelings about people of Russian descent at all!
> 
> As indicated in my beginning notes, I really worked hard on this and I love these characters and this story. If you have a moment, let me know what you think! Thanks for reading xx
> 
> Here's the rebloggable post: [IWTL](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/post/159944900490/i-walk-the-line?is_related_post=1)


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